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ADYICE TO YOUNG AUTHORS 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE 



HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS CONCERNING ALL SORTS 
OF LITERARY AND JOURNALISTIC WORK 



PERSONALLY CONTRIBUTED BY 

LEADING AUTHORS OF THE DAY 



COMPILED AND EDITED 

By ALICE R. MYLENE 



For sale by the Co-operative Literary Press 
59A Ames Building, Boston 






in&X 



/ 



BOSTON, MASS. : 

MORNING STAR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

1891. 




Copyrighted, 189k 

BY ALICE R. MYLENE 

All rights reserved 



CONTENTS. 



PAGB 

Preface . • . . . v 

To Write or Not to Write 1 

The Literary Life 18 

General Suggestions 34 

The Modern Press. — Journalism 57 

Humorous Writing. — Translations 82 

Writing for the Dollar .91 

Index to Contributors 97 

Index to Subjects 99 



PBEFACE 



"To write or not to write "; or, in other words, "Shall 
literature be adopted as a profession ? " is the question 
to-day with thousands of young writers who have satisfied 
themselves that they possess more or less talent in this 
direction. After having decided the first question, the 
would-be writer looks about him for tools with which to 
learn his trade ; and, in doing this, he discovers that in no 
line of professional work to-day is there sharper competi- 
tion than in authorship. A casual glance into the world 
of letters shows him that writers are already legion, and 
the number is every day increasing, and that the public 
is growing to be more and more of a reading public, con- 
sequently more critical, exacting, and less easily pleased. 
He begins to realize that these are especially the days in 
which a man must be qualified for what he undertakes to 
do ; to get a hearing he must be quite equal to his com- 
petitors ; to earn a livelihood by writing he must be supe- 
rior to the majority. These things show him that he 
must use care in choosing his tools, and that the same 
industry and painstaking with which a carpenter learns 



VI PREFACE. 

to build a house, or an engineer to run a locomotive, are 
necessary to success in authorship. This little volume 
has been rendered necessary by the large number of 
inquiries in regard to these matters called forth by 
the recent publication of "A Letter of Advice to Begin- 
ners." It meets the accumulated and urgent inquiries of 
many young contributors with one comprehensive reply. 
Through the kindness of many eminent authors and jour- 
nalists who have personally contributed words of counsel, 
and without whose generous assistance the book could 
never have been written, the compiler is able to offer 
information and advice that, coming from persons who 
know whereof they speak, cannot fail to be useful and 
inspiring to the young writer thirsting for literary fame. 

Alice R. Mylene. 



I. 

TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

Contributors. — Herbert Milton Sylvester, Edmond Picton, George 
William Curtis, Maurice Francis Egan, Hezekiah Butterworth, 
Oscar Fay Adams. 

The theory that one must be a genius or the object of 
special endowment to be a successful author or journal- 
ist was exploded long ago. Yery few of the successful 
writers of to-day can be said to possess that gift of the 
gods that made the whole world listen to Burns while 
he sang his wonderful songs from field and furrow, and 
compelled men to ask, "Who is this man Shakespeare 
that can afford to set at naught all common rules and 
precedents, and people the world with such marvelous 
creations ? " 

Who knows what his gifts are until he tests them? 
Is not that which is commonly termed genius largely 
intensity of feeling, emotion, thought, activity? Who 
can say that true greatness does not in a great measure 
spring from culture, and that high endeavors are not the 
secret of glad success ? 



2 TO WHITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

There are indeed vast differences between men; but 
the secret of those differences lies far less in special gift 
vouchsafed to one and withheld from another than in 
the differing degree in which we use or fail to use those 
elements of human greatness which lie within the grasp 
of all. Genius is energy quite as much as insight ; and 
insight is as much dependent upon tireless activity as 
upon Divine gift. Power of attention, forceful habits of 
industry, wisdom in seeing and promptitude in seizing 
opportunity, patient perseverance, courage and hopeful- 
ness under disappointments, are the forces that win. For 
my own part I do not believe in heaven-born geniuses 
unless they supplement their genius with the healthy 
drudgery of daily work. Anthony Trollope said that 
the best aid to a genius was a bit of cobbler's wax to 
fasten yourself to your stool until you had accomplished 
your allotted task. He evidently believed genius nothing 
but commonplace, honest, hard work. 

In a multitude of witnesses lies the surety of truth. In 
a multitude of individual experiences in any one line of 
work is the certainty of a well-guided and profitable exer- 
tion ; and I can give no better expression to my thought 
and feeling upon this question than by giving the helpful 
words of well-known authors and journalists, permitting 
them to speak for me. 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 6 

Herbert Milton Sylvester, author of " Homestead 
Highways " and " Prose Pastorals/' is one of the later 
recruits to the ranks of successful word painters. His 
clear and forcible style, keen analysis of character, and 
insight into human nature entitle him to a foremost place 
among writers of the John Burroughs school. He makes 
abundant use of Nature's color and romantic effects, but 
writes in a manner peculiarly his own, — a manner that is 
subtle and very modern. He has been spoken of by some 
of our leading critics as the Richard Jeffries of New 
England. He deals in his essay work with the quaint 
and old-fashioned qualities of New England life after a 
most idyllic fashion. He has an assured place in Ameri- 
can literature. Mr. Sylvester says : — 

u Given a palette of colors, a hand of brushes, a fresh 
canvas, and good working light, one has the material for 
a chef d' centre. The thing is to show others what is clear- 
est to your own inner consciousness, — what you see, feel, 
and love. Technique is a great thing. Tone, delicacy 
of touch, crispness of handling, breadth of treatment and 
composition, are separately quite as important. To com- 
prehend all and to use them is art. 

" To write is as much art as to paint. G-oose-quill or 
pen, ink and paper, are the material, but the successful 
combination is of the subtle, intangible essence of life 
and living, the every-day, commonplace experiences that 



4 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

come to all. People begin and end with the comparative. 
Be it books or their own kind, it does not matter pro- 
vided the experience differs from their own. This is 
something the author does not always have in mind. 

u There is no common road to prestige in literary work, 
so much depends upon the writer. A broad humanity 
and love for the common things in life only will arouse 
the same instinct and quality in others and reinforce 
them. 

" Imagination, vividness, action and coloring, and a good 
vocabulary are indispensable. With good matter, dra- 
matic force, and truthfulness to incident and detail, a 
successful hearing should be obtained. The canvas, the 
tersely-spoken word, and written epigram are the blue- 
print reproductions of the negatives into which the mental 
visions have been developed. Every written sentence is 
the visual interpretation of the inner consciousness, which 
should be the best in us no matter what the book may 
be or who its author. The test of value is sincerity. 

" Were you ever on a rummaging expedition in the old 
house garret to find stowed away with the ancient house- 
hold belongings a bundle of time-yellowed missives, odor- 
ous with the scent of crumbling rose leaves, — old-fashioned 
love-letters, sweet, tender, and romantic, like when dear 
grandma was a ruddy-cheeked girl and first broke their 
waxen seals ? Then, with your treasure in hand, did you 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 5 

dust a place to sit and pore over the olden romance in 
the half-light, weaving a newer in the cobweb draperies 
of the single gable window, forgetful of time and all 
else? 

"Ah, when you write from like impulse and like intensity 
of purpose, you will compel a large " reading parish," as 
Dr. Holmes terms it. You will get fame ; and, what is 
better, a good bank account. 

"Books are born in the heart. Mrs. Stowe's 'Uncle 
Tom's Cabin' is a heart romance. Mrs. Stowe's heart held 
all her characters. They lived in that capacious organ, — 
not in her brain, which was their sunny Southern planta- 
tion, — until their doings and sayings were made public in 
book form. Topsy-like, they ' growed ' there in Mrs. 
Stowe's heart, and, when old enough to do the work to 
which she had trained them, they were sent into the world 
we know to make their own ways and to be loved and 
cherished by others. 

"Do you think of writing ? What do you wish to say ? 
What end do you seek ? Is it a selfish one, or can you 
contain yourself no longer ? Do heart and soul compel 
you ? Is it something which will better the world and 
its dwellers ? Important questions all, for the quality of 
your work depends upon your object. If you are posing, 
if you are anxious to see yourself in print and your name 
upon the title-page, if you have money, there are publish- 



6 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

ers who will take both manuscript and money and return 
you the empty distinction of unrequited authorship and a 
batch of criticisms that will be likely to make you feel 
intensely uncharitable and uncomfortable whenever you 
see or think of them. 

" You will say the critics are a heartless set, a selfish 
guild. They are not heartless, but generally truthful and 
forbearing. They say cutting things to arouse you to 
better effort or the futility of further attempts at author- 
ship. It is a great deal sometimes to attract attention. 
If your faults are kindly pointed out, you may believe 
and go on to higher aspirations. If the critic empties his 
cornucopia of good things into your lap, question his sin- 
cerity or his judgment. That is one kind of ridicule, and 
very effective generally. The critic is not infallible, but 
human. His mental make-up may be cut on the bias; his 
humanity warped and twisted ; his fairness on a protracted 
spree. He is then a subject for your compassion and 
patience. Unfortunately there are a few of the ilk. Mr. 
G-unther's experience with the critics is in point. The 
disregard of the public for the critic's opinion in that 
case was a notable one. 

" How far your work is spontaneous is for others to say. 
Your own enthusiasm is no test. Your story completed, 
you submit it to the good judgment of another ; but beware 
of soothing speech and faint praise. Better the worst to 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 7 

be said than that. A faithful friend will advise you to 
lay your work aside for a time until you will be able 
to peruse it with an unfeeling, judicious severity. You 
will then discover what your friend did, — the loose, 
sleazy places, the halting gait of your characters, its 
obscurity and unevenness. Your vision is clearer. You 
begin to " cut " timorously at first ; then more boldly ; 
and finally you "blue-pencil" with a growing delight, 
almost savagery ; removing whole paragraphs and chap- 
ters, even, in your Draconian rigor, — that is, if you are 
to get on. It is like having the measles, rash, or chicken- 
pox. One has to have them in a literary sort of way. 
Whatever is in you will come out. Yet if, like a cracked 
teacup, your work is beyond mending, throw it away and 
begin over again. Your success will be more assured. 

"Writers are too anxious to rush into print. Once 
before the public, they wish to stay there either by new 
ventures or by persistent newspaper paragraphing. Don't 
be discouraged if your name is not mentioned in some 
article which purports to be a write-up of your literary 
locality while the author of a single poem may be accorded 
a line of distinction. Let your own work sound your 
praise. It is by far the more solid and substantial. 
People are paid to do things sometimes. Show the crit- 
ics your appreciation of what they think you deserve, but 
don't run after them. They will respect you the more 



8 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

if you are independent and are not constantly asking 
favors. 

"Don't be a 'fad.' It is generally a condition to ulti- 
mate indifference. We can't all be Stevensons, Hag- 
gards, Ibsens, or Kiplings, who have all had in their turn 
to give way to others. Instances are rare where continu- 
ous literary activity has been well sustained or profitable. 
People tire of too much of one thing. The rarity of a 
toothsome delicacy but whets the appetite to a keener 
edge. Don't make haste, — don't write yourself out. 

u ' What shall I write ? ' Write that which is in you 
which must be written. Any thing suits the public — the 
reading public — that takes it out of itself. Sensationalism 
as such has had its day, if the signs are to be read aright. 
As to writing what is in you, I mean that which you feel, 
know, love, and which you wish to share with others. 
Truth, like good coin, will go anywhere; so tell the 
truth as you see it. 

"'How did you do your books ? ' you ask. 

" I was impelled to write them. I had no idea of a 
book when I began. When l Prose Pastorals ' was pub- 
lished, ' Homestead Highways ' was complete in the 
manuscript. I could not tell you by what method I 
wrote. I simply wrote what was in my heart and what 
I wished others to see with me, and found myself on the 
bookshelves along with other authors. No one can tell 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 9 

you how to do it. It is impossible. You must find the 
road for yourself. The best compensation which has 
come to me are the letters from strangers, near and far 
away, thanking me for writing those two books. In a 
recent note from the author of ' Over the Teacups ' he 
said, — and I presume I am revealing no confidences, — 'It 
does an author good to tell him he has pleased or profited 
a reader who does not know him personally, but is will- 
ing to take the trouble to let him know that his thoughts 
have found hospitable reception in the mind and heart of 
at least one of his reading constituency.' 

" Most authors feel the same way, and it is worth writ- 
ing for, worth seeking, for the individual who delights to 
borrow your vision for a look at familiar things to say 
how much you have helped him, with such a wide audi- 
ence as a book brings to one. Write for your neighbor 
and the stranger as well, and you will get on." 

Edmond Picton, a young writer whose keenness of 
insight, mental acuteness, and literary instinct, make him 
a conspicuous figure in the front rank of literary journal- 
ists, says : — 

'•'Not to write' directed to those whose brains are 

teeming with ideas, whose crowded thoughts want air 

and recognition, would be a cruel mandate. Seldom has 

a young writer, in whom the ' divine spark ' has been 



10 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

implanted, been swerved aside from a course known to 
him as the right one. Through the thorniest of paths, 
the weariest of climbings, he will go until the voices of 
the dissuading ones are a mere echo from his attaining 
height. A musician will melodize into music, a song- 
stress will carol forth song ; why may not a writer indite 
words ? But you say, ' Words, words, — only words ! ' 
From words may be shaped a thought ; from a thought a 
line ; from lines, something for good or ill. 

" All men know not like expression ; yet there is some- 
thing sacred in the outpourings of a mind, — in the voicing 
of a God-given attribute; and minute dissection will find 
therein some beauty, as in a gem lying lowly at our feet. 
Those high in the dizzy ascent prate of the perils of the 
way, the difficulties to be surmounted, little judging that 
invincible spirits are not to be turned back, and that each 
admonition is but a lodestone to their feet. 

" ' But every one is dabbling in ink,' some one declares. 
Let them dabble, I say, as long as ink is plentiful ! For 
the earnest ones it will not be dabbling long. Something 
to be seen and remembered will take form, and the patient 
fingers that wield the pen will ere long be convinced of 
its mightiness." 

George William Curtis, the celebrated author and 
lecturer, whose style, both spoken and written, is re- 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 11 

markable for its transparency, its energy, its elegance, 
writes : — 

" You propose a large text for a little sermon, but I 
should be very glad if I could say a word that might help 
any of my younger fellow-workers. It is useless to dis- 
cuss qualifications for authorship, because the one qualifi- 
cation with which we all begin is the desire to write and 
publish. Some success in the beginning generally deter- 
mines the decision for the literary profession. Then the 
first rule is regularity and order in study and work, for 
a desultory habit tends to end in entire indolence and 
inactivity. Style in writing comes by natural perception 
and careful familiarity with the masters. If there must 
be an arbitrary rule it should be lucidity, conciseness, and 
simplicity. But these are consistent with amplitude and 
richness. Addison and Goldsmith are not more masters 
of style than Milton and Burke, not to venture into 
nearer realms. Barrenness is not simplicity, nor want of 
color lucidity. But a man should confine himself to 
drawing unless he have the taste and power to deal with 
strong color. 

u It is, indeed, all instinct and thoughtful practice, based 
upon a reverence for the art of literature like that of an 
artist in all other branches." 

Maurice Francis Egan is an author who deals with 



12 TO WEITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

difficult and unusual inquiries, whose books are the result 
of extremely laborious research, and are marked by great 
ingenuity, originality, and earnestness. Mr. Egan is one 
of the professors at Notre Dame University, Notre Dame, 
Ind. Speaking of the art of authorship, he says : — 

" No man or woman ought to attempt to enter the pro- 
fession of letters unless that man or woman has talent, 
tact, energy, and indomitable perseverance; and talent, 
tact, energy, are useless without the last quality, which 
is as coal to an ocean steamer. It ought to be remem- 
bered, too, that, while a lawyer may defend a criminal, or 
a business man look on his talent as a means for mere 
money-making without too closely considering the aims 
of his employer, the writer's function is more spiritual, 
more delicate ; it demands more scruples. Otherwise, he 
will have greater consolation in the keeping of a peanut 
stand and his own self-respect than in bending the highest 
gifts and acquirements to earn a living at the expense of 
his principles and the morality of his people ; for every 
time a man sells his conviction or falls below himself he 
drags down many. 

" Literature is an endless art. One must regard lan- 
guage as the sculptor regards his mass of marble. One 
cannot take another man's statue and call it one's own ; 
the chisel must be used through weary days until the 
marble begins to breathe. Words are hindrances to 



TO WKITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 13 

expression; a writer must learn to conquer them until 
they fit his thoughts like a glove and are plastic, until they 
are not mere symbols of his thought, but are saturated 
with the thought itself. One begins with a good diction- 
ary, a book of synonyms, ' The Yicar of Wakefield,' and 
1 Apologia pro Yita Sua.' With these tools, industry in 
using them, and constant practice in the art of saying 
exactly what one wants to say, the hard rock of language 
will yield — in time ; for art is long. 

" As to the literary demands of the day, it seems to me 
that there was no time when a bright and individual man- 
ner of repeating old, human truths would be more quickly 
appreciated by editors and the public. In novels it is 
not the dialect that counts, but the truth. If one's poem, 
story, or essay be rejected unanimously, one may be sure 
that it lacks something in truth of conception or in exact- 
ness of expression. Let us look it over, in the light of 
our literary conscience, before we become cynical. 

"Every young writer should read Anthony Trollope's 
'Autobiography ' several times ; and let no day pass with- 
out having written at least five hundred words, to revise 
them at least twice. Five lines of verse, each line copied 
and revised ten times, is enough work for a week. 
These words are recommended to writers who are pre- 
paring, not to those in harness, who cannot help them- 
selves now." 



14 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

Hezekiah Butterworth, an author of special power, 
clothes his stories in language as simple and direct as it 
is strong and beautiful. There is moral tonic in his 
books, stimulating thought, fine and persuasive appeals 
to the imagination, as well as marvelous plot and weird 
incident. 

" Horace, nearly two thousand years ago," he says, 
"expressed the successful literary art in these terms: 
' He who unites what is useful with what is agreeable wins 
every vote. His book crosses the sea ; it will enrich the 
socii (Roman publishers) and gain for himself imperish- 
able fame.' If I have won any success with my pen it 
has been by regarding this principle of endeavoring to 
make what is useful agreeable. 

"I am a believer in evolution in literature. All good 
work is growth. The best work is the evolution of the oft- 
rejected manuscript. If I have failed, it has been because 
a busy life and kind-hearted editors have prevented me 
from maturing my literary plans, and I have published too 
much in outline. 

" So I would say, ' Have a useful purpose, make what is 
useful agreeable, and evolve it until it be perfect.' Such 
writing to-day, as in the times of literary Rome, will 
' win every vote ' and ' enrich the socii ' if not yourself. 

Oscar Fay Adams has won an enviable reputation in 



TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 15 

the world of letters as a novelist and a general writer of 
strong individuality. It is not easy to say wherein con- 
sists the unmistakable touch of genius in his work, but it 
is undoubtedly there. He always seems to strike the 
right vein and to use the right words. His composition 
is at all times vigorous, and never obscure. 

"An experience of some years as reader of book manu- 
scripts confirms me in the belief that if authors were dis- 
posed to heed a word of advice now and then/' he says, 
"they would be spared some disappointments and annoy- 
ances. To begin with, I should insist strongly upon one 
point much neglected by writers of fiction — reliance upon 
conversation and action for the portrayal of character, 
rather than upon description. Note, for example, the open- 
ing chapter of ' Pride and Prejudice,' and see how Mr. and 
Mrs. Bonnet reveal themselves in one short dialogue far 
more completely than any descriptive account of them 
could possibly do. To assert that a character is gener- 
ous, petty, or ambitious, carries very little weight with it 
if the actions and conversation of the person described 
do not confirm it. Characters should seem to describe them- 
selves, and the author should be content to let them do so. 

"Authors often fail because their books are loosely 
constructed. If the work is a story, the main theme 
is not sufficiently clear, or there are too many dis- 
connected episodes, too many descriptions leading to 



16 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

nothing in particular, and too cramped and inelastic a 
vocabulary. 

"Many writers are disposed to overwork certain adjec- 
tives, like ' dainty,' ' charming,' l fairy,' etc. Exactness of 
statement should be cultivated. It is not description to 
say that certain objects are ' dainty ' or 'fairy-like.' To 
say that a person is ' charming ' tells us nothing unless 
we know wherein the charm consists. Truth compels me 
to say here that women are far more inexact and indefi- 
nite in their use of adjectives than are men. 

"Avoid worn-out terms of expression, such as 'the 
scene of our story,' 'dear reader,' 'festive board,' and 
many more that might be named. If quotations from 
Scripture are made, do not give chapter and verse. Not 
one reader in a hundred will take the pains to verify the 
references, and a page bristling with allusions to ' Acts 
5:27,' 'Gen. 7:23,' 'Deut. 30:15,' repels more readers 
than it attracts. 

"Do not attempt to write verse without a fair under- 
standing of the laws of versification. This is an age of 
careful workmanship in verse writing, and the writer who 
is not willing to learn how to avoid false rhymes, limping 
lines, and weak or ill-chosen adjectives, should never 
essay verse at all. Above all else, do not fancy that to 
write blank verse is easier than writing in rhyme. Hardly 
one blank verse poem out of a hundred that is submitted 



TO WHITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 17 

to a reader bears any internal evidence that its writer 
knows what constitutes blank verse. 

u In the preparation of manuscripts I should say that if 
a person writes a fairly legible hand, it is hardly worth 
while to go to the expense of having a manuscript type- 
written. I have found certain manuscripts thus prepared 
very fatiguing reading on account of the condensed, close 
character of the type. And, if you have any regard for a 
reader's eyes, never use purple ink in either hand or type 
written manuscript. 

" In writing to an editor or publisher regarding your 
manuscript, make your communication as brief as is con- 
sistent with clearness. It is not necessary for you to go 
into many details concerning it, and he or his reader can 
tell much better from examination of the manuscript than 
from what you may say whether the book or article is 
what they want." 



18 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 



II. 

THE LITERARY LIFE. 

Contributors. — Thomas Wentworth Higginson, James Jeffrey 
Roche, Mrs. Frank Leslie. 

Few prose writers of to-day have a more sensitive 
imagination or a more chaste and musical style than 
Thomas Wentworth Higginson. Any statement con- 
cerning authorship by any author of such scholarly attain- 
ment; as well as of such impressive beauty of expression, 
will be doubly welcomed. 

"Every author habitually measures the merits of a 
periodical by its appreciation of his or her last manu- 
script/' he says, in "Hints on Writing and Speech-Making," 
"just as a young lady is apt to estimate the management 
of a ball by her own private luck in respect to partners. 
But it is worth while at least to point out that in the 
treatment of every contribution the real interests of editor 
and writer are absolutely the same, and any antagonism 
is merely traditional, like the supposed hostility between 
France and England, or that which was once thought to 
exist between England and slavery. No editor can ever 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 19 

afford the rejection of a good thing, and no author the 
publication of a bad one. The only difficulty lies in 
drawing the line. Were all offered manuscripts unequiv- 
ocally good or bad, there would be no great trouble ; it 
is the vast range of mediocrity which perplexes, — the 
majority are too bad for blessing and too good for ban- 
ning; so that no conceivable reason can be given for 
either fate, save that upon the destiny of any contribution 
may hang that of a hundred others just like it. But, what- 
ever be the standard fixed, it is equally for the interest 
of all concerned that it be enforced without flinching. 

"Nor is there the slightest authority for the supposed 
editorial prejudice against new or obscure contributors. 
On the contrary, every editor is always hungering and 
thirsting after novelties. To take the lead in bringing 
forward a new genius is as fascinating a privilege as that 
of the physician who boasted to Sir Henry Halford of 
having been the first man to discover the Asiatic cholera 
and to communicate it to the public. It is only stern 
necessity which compels the magazine to fall back so 
constantly on the regular old staff of contributors, whose 
average product has been gauged already ; just as every 
country lyceum attempts annually to arrange an entirely 
new list of lecturers, and has often ended with no bolder 
experiment than that of substituting G-ough and Beecher 
in place of the last year's Beecher and Gough. 



20 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

" Of course no editor is infallible, and the best magazine 
contains an occasional poor article. Do not blame the 
unfortunate conductor : he knows it as well as you do — 
after the deed is done. Do you expect him to acknowl- 
edge the blunder when you tax him with it ? Never ! he 
feels it too keenly. He will rather stand up stoutly for 
the surpassing merits of the misshapen thing, as a mother 
for her deformed child ; and as the mother is nevertheless 
inwardly imploring that there may never be such another 
born to her, so be sure that it is not by reminding the 
editor of one calamity that you can allure him into risk- 
ing another. 

"An editor thus shows himself to be but human, and it 
is well enough to remember this fact when you approach 
him. He is not a gloomy despot, no Nemesis or Rhada- 
manthus, but a bland and virtuous man, exceedingly 
anxious to secure plenty of good subscribers and contrib- 
utors, and very ready to perform any acts of kindness 
not inconsistent with this grand design. Draw near him, 
therefore, with soft approaches and mild persuasions. 
Do not treat him like an enemy, and insist on reading 
your whole manuscript aloud to him with appropriate 
gestures. His time has some value, if yours has not; 
and he has therefore educated his eye till it has become 
microscopic, like a naturalist's, and can classify nine out 
of ten specimens by one glance at a scale or a feather. 



THE LITERAEY LIFE. 21 

Fancy an ambitious echinoderm claiming a private inter- 
view with Agassiz, to demonstrate by verbal arguments 
that he is a mollusk ! Besides, do you expect to admin- 
ister the thing orally to each of the two hundred thousand, 
more or less, who turn the leaves of the magazine ? You 
are writing for the average eye, and must submit to its 
verdict. l Do not trouble yourself about the light on your 
statue ; it is the light of the public square which must test 
its value.' 

"Therefore do not despise any honest propitiation, 
however small, in dealing with your editor. Look to the 
physical aspect of your manuscript, and prepare your 
page so neatly that it shall allure instead of repel. 
Use good pens, black ink, nice white paper, and plenty of 
it. Do not emulate i paper-sparing Pope,' whose chaotic 
manuscript of the < Iliad,' written chiefly on the backs of 
old letters, still remains in the British Museum. If your 
document be slovenly, the presumption is that its literary 
execution is the same, Pope to the contrary notwithstand- 
ing. An editor's eye becomes carnal, and is easily attracted 
by a comely outside. If you really wish to obtain his 
good will for your production, do not first tax his time 
for deciphering it, any more than in visiting a millionaire 
to solicit a loan you would begin by asking him to pay 
for the hire of your carriage. 

" On the same principle, send your composition in such 



22 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

a shape that it shall not need the slightest literary revision 
before printing. Many a bright production dies discarded 
which might have been made thoroughly presentable by 
a single day's labor of a competent scholar in shaping, 
smoothing, dovetailing, and retrenching. The revision 
seems so small an affair that the aspirant cannot conceive 
why there should be so much fuss about it. 

" ' The piece, you think, is incorrect; why, take it. 
I'm all submission; what you'd have it, make it.' 

But to discharge that friendly office no universal genius 
is salaried; and for intellect in the rough there is no 
market. 

"Rules for style, as for manners, must be chiefly nega- 
tive; a positively good style indicates certain natural 
powers in the individual, but a merely unexceptional style 
is only a matter of culture and good models. 

"Dr. Channing established in New England a standard 
of writing which really attained almost the perfection of 
the pure and the colorless, and the disciplinary value of 
such a literary influence, in a raw and crude nation, was 
very great; but the defect of just such a standard is that 
it ends in utterly renouncing all the great traditions of 
literature, and ignoring the magnificent mystery of words. 
Human language may be exact and prosaic in itself, up- 
lifted with difficulty into expression by the high thoughts 
it utters, or it may in itself become so saturated with 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 23 

warm life and delicious association that every sentence 
shall palpitate and thrill with the mere fascination of 
the syllables. The statue is not more surely included 
in the block of marble than is all conceivable splendor 
of utterance in ; Worcester's Unabridged.' And as 
Ruskin says of painting that it is in the perfection 
and precision of the instantaneous line that the claim 
to immortality is made, so it is easy to see that a 
good phrase may outweigh a poor library. Keats heads 
the catalogue of things real with c sun, moon, and passages 
of Shakespeare ; ' and Keats himself has left behind him 
winged wonders of expression that were not surpassed 
by Shakespeare or by any one else who dared touch the 
English tongue. There may be phrases which shall be 
palaces to dwell in, treasure-houses to explore ; a single 
word may be a window from which one may perceive all 
the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of them. Some- 
times a word will speak what accumulated volumes have 
labored in vain to utter : there may be years of crowded 
passion in a phrase, and half a life may be concentrated 
in a sentence. 

" Such being the majesty of the art you seek to practice, 
you can at least take time and deliberation before dishon- 
oring it. Disabuse yourself especially of the belief that 
any grace or flow of style can come from writing rapidly. 
Haste can make you slipshod, but it can never make you 



24 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

graceful. With what dismay one reads of the wonderful 
fellows in fashionable novels, who can easily dash off a 
brilliant essay in a single night ! When I think how 
slowly my poor thoughts come in, how tardily they con- 
nect themselves, what a delicious prolonged perplexity it 
is to cut and contrive a decent clothing of words for 
them, as a little girl does for her doll, — nay, how many 
new outfits a single sentence sometimes costs before it is 
presentable, till it seems at last, like our army on the 
Potomac, as if it never could be thoroughly clothed, — I 
certainly should never dare to venture into print, but for 
the confirmed suspicion that the greatest writers have 
done even thus. Do you know, my dear neophyte, how 
Balzac used to compose ? As a specimen of the labor 
that sometimes goes to make an effective style, the process 
is worth recording. 

" When Balzac had a new work in view, he first spent 
weeks in studying from real life for it, haunting the streets 
of Paris by day and night, note-book in hand. His mate- 
rials gained, he shut himself up until the book was written, 
absolutely excluding everybody but his publisher. In a 
month or two he emerged, pale and thin, with the com- 
plete manuscript in his hand, — not only written, but 
almost re-written, so thoroughly was the original copy 
altered, interlined, and rearranged. This strange produc- 
tion, almost illegible, was sent to the unfortunate printers ; 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 25 

with infinite difficulty a proof-sheet was obtained, which, 
being sent to the author, was presently returned in a 
conditiou almost as hopeless as that of the manuscripts. 
Whole sentences were erased, others transposed, every 
thing modified. A second and a third proof followed, 
alike torn to pieces by the ravenous pen of Balzac. The 
despairing printers labored by turns, only the picked men 
of the office being equal to the task, and they relieving 
each other at hourly intervale, as beyond that time no 
one could endure the fatigue. At last, by the fourth 
proof-sheet, the author, too, was wearied out, though not 
contented. 'I work ten hours out of the twenty-four,' 
said he, l over the elaboration of my unhappy style, and I 
am never satisfied myself when all is done.' 

"Do not complain that this scrupulousness is probably 
wasted, after all, and that nobody knows. The public 
knows. People criticise far beyond what they can attain. 
When the Athenian audience hissed a public speaker for 
a mispronunciation, it did not follow that any one of the 
malcontents could pronounce as well as the orator. Men 
talk of writing down to the public taste, who have never 
yet written up to that standard. 

u l There never yet was a good tongue,' said old Fuller, 
'that wanted ears to hear it.' If one were expecting to 
be judged by a few scholars only, one might hope some- 
how to cajole them; but it is this vast, unimpassioned, 



26 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

unconscious tribunal, this average judgment of intelligent 
minds, which is truly formidable. It is something more 
undying than senates, and more omnipotent than courts, 
something which rapidly cancels all transitory reputa- 
tions, and at last becomes the organ of eternal justice 
and awards posthumous fame. 

" The first demand made by the public upon every com- 
position is, of course, that it should be attractive. In 
addressing a miscellaneous audience, whether through 
eye or ear, it is certain that no man living has a right to 
be tedious. Every editor is therefore compelled to insist 
that his contributors should make themselves agreeable, 
whatever else they may do. To be agreeable, it is not 
necessary to be amusing; an essay may be thoroughly 
delightful without a single witticism, while a monotone 
of jokes soon grows tedious. Charge your style with 
life, and the public will not ask for conumdrums. But 
the profounder your discourse, the greater must neces- 
sarily be the effort to refresh and diversify. I have 
observed, in addressing audiences of children in schools 
and elsewhere, that there is no fact so grave, no thought 
so abstract, but you can make it very interesting to the 
small people if you will only put in plenty of detail and 
illustration ; and in this respect grown men are not so 
very different. If, therefore, in writing, you find your 
theme to be abstruse, labor to render your statement 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 27 

clear and attractive,. as if your life depended on it; your 
literary life does depend on it, and, if you fail, relapses 
into a dead language, and becomes, like that of Coleridge, 
only a Uographia literaria. Toil, therefore, not in thought 
alone, but in utterance; clothe and reclothe your pro- 
found conception twenty times, if need be, until you find 
some phrase that with its profundity shall be lucid also. 

"In learning to write effectively a newspaper office is 
a capital preparatory school ; for it teaches the use of 
material and compels to pungency of style. Being 
always at close quarters with his readers, a journalist 
must shorten and sharpen his sentences or he is doomed. 
Yet this mental alertness is bought at a severe price : 
such living from hand to mouth is apt to cheapen the 
whole mode of intellectual existence, and it is hard for 
a successful journalist to get the newspaper out of his 
blood, or to achieve any high literary success. 

"For purposes of illustration and elucidation, and 
even for wealth of vocabulary, much accumulated mate- 
rial is essential ; and whether this be won by reading or 
by experience makes no great difference. Eemember, 
however, that copious preparation has its perils also in 
the crude display to which it tempts. The object of 
high culture is not to exhibit culture but its results. 

"Be noble both in the affluence and economy of your 
diction ; spare no wealth that you can put in, and toler- 



28 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

ate no superfluity that can be struck out. Remember 
the Lacedemonian who was fined for saying that in three 
words which might as well have been expressed in two. 
Do not throw a dozen vague epithets at a thing, in the 
hope that some one of them will fit; but study each 
phrase so carefully that the most ingenious critic cannot 
alter it without spoiling the whole passage for everybody 
but himself. For the same reason do not take refuge, as 
was the practice a few years since, in German combina- 
tions, heart-utterances, soul-sentiments, and hyphenized 
phrases generally, but roll your thought into one good 
English word. There is no fault which seems so hope- 
less as commonplaceness, but it is really easier to elevate 
the commonplace than to reduce the turgid. How few 
men in all the pride of culture can emulate the easy grace 
of a bright woman's letter ! 

"Be neither too lax nor too precise in your use of 
language : the one fault ends in stiffness, the other in 
slang. Some one told the Emperor Tiberius that he 
might give citizenship to men, but not to words. To be 
sure, Louis XIV., in childhood, wishing for a carriage, 
called for mon carrosse, and made the former feminine a 
masculine to all future Frenchmen. But do not under- 
take to exercise these prerogatives of royalty until you 
are quite sure of being crowned. 

"Especially do not indulge any whimsical preference 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 29 

for either Latin or Anglo Saxon, the two great wings on 
which our magnificent English soars and sings j we can 
spare neither. The combination gives us an affluence of 
synonyms and a delicacy of discrimination such as no 
unmixed idiom can show. 

"While you utterly shun slang, whether native or for- 
eign born, — at present, by the way, our popular writers 
use far less slang than the English, — yet do not shrink 
from Americanisms, so they be good ones. American 
literature is now thoroughly out of leading-strings ; and 
the nation which supplied the first appreciative audience 
for Carlyle, Tennyson, and the Brownings can certainly 
trust its own literary instincts to create the new words it 
needs. To be sure, the inelegancies with which we are 
chiefly reproached are not distinctively American : Burke 
uses 'pretty considerable' ; Miss Burney says 'I trembled 
a few'; the English Bible says 'reckon,' Locke has 
1 guess,' and Southey 'realize,' in the exact sense in which 
one sometimes hears them used colloquially here. Never- 
theless, such improprieties are, of course, to be avoided ; 
but whatever good Americanisms exist, let us hold to 
them by all means. To the previous traditions and 
associations of the English tongue we add resources of 
contemporary life such as England cannot rival. 

"There are certain minor matters, subsidiary to ele- 
gance, if not elegancies, and therefore worth attention. 



30 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

Do not habitually prop your sentences on crutches, such 
as italic letters and exclamation points, but make them 
stand without aid ; if they cannot emphasize themselves, 
these devices are but a confession of helplessness. Do 
not leave loose ends as you go on, straggling things to 
be caught up and dragged along uneasily in foot-notes ; 
but work them all in neatly, as Biddy at her bread-pan 
gradually kneads in all the outlying bits of dough till 
she has one round and comely mass. Reduce yourself to 
short allowance of parentheses and dashes j if you employ 
them merely from clumsiness they will lose all their 
proper power in your hands. Economize quotation- 
marks also ; clear that dust from your pages ; assume 
your readers to be acquainted with the current jokes and 
the stock epithets : all persons like the compliment of 
having it presumed that they know something, and prefer 
to discover the wit or beauty of your allusion without a 
guide-board." 

James Jeffrey Roche, a prose writer of exquisite 
charm, is for penetration, pungency, wit, for brilliant 
and incisive epigram, surpassed by few. He modestly 
says : — 

" I do not feel that I am competent to offer advice to 
others out of my own limited experience and moderate 
success as a writer. The great authors, from the time 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 31 

of Horace down to the present, have done so, and the 
gist of their advice is summed up by the former in two 
sentences : ' Knowledge is the beginning and fountain of 
good writing ' and ' Turn the stylus often/ i. e., revise and 
re-revise always. The poem, essay, or story that is 
' dashed off' in a moment or hour of 'inspiration' is 
rarely worth the paper which it has spoiled. I wish I 
could conscientiously say that I have always followed 
these rules ; but I am giving advice now, not offering 
an example. 

"I do not know what books of composition are pop- 
ular at the present day, but an excellent one in use in 
my time was ' Quackenbos's Composition and Rhetoric,' 
founded, I think, on Blair's larger work. It is as good 
a guide to the cultivation of style as any of which I 
know. Doubtless there are as good or better ones 
published at present. It was old-fashioned, of course, 
in many respects. I have a vague recollection that it 
taught the student now to begin his essay with an ' exor- 
dium' and to conclude it with a 'peroration.' I fear I 
have forgotten how the latter feat was to be accom- 
plished, so I must end less stiltedly, by subscribing myself 
very truly yours." 

Mrs. Frank Leslie, the well-known editor and versa- 
tile writer, says : — 



32 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

"I am not unmindful of the responsibility assumed in 
offering advice calculated to influence or confirm young 
persons in the choice of a literary career. Assuming, 
however, that the momentous step has been decided upon, 
the great question is how by substantial success to make 
writing worth while. Success, then, is to be assured not 
so much by the possession of extraordinary gifts as by 
the right employment of those actually vouchsafed us. 

" The three essential elements of the literary formula 
are rule, reason, and sentiment. The first of these may 
be modified by the study of good models ; the second is 
developed by practice and contact with life ; the third is 
the rarest quality of the three, but many modern writers 
appear to succeed without it. 

" To some of us it is given to hide a lack of wisdom by 
an adroit use of wit. Whatever your equipment, do not 
allow your pen to get rusty or dull. Write, write, write, 
spinning improvisation from memory when not drawing 
inspiration from your heart. Doing, not dreaming, is the 
secret of success. 

"When the thing is done let it stand or fall on its 
merits before the editorial tribunal. It is the editor's 
business and his bounden duty to separate the wheat 
from the chaff. Where a number of editors are unani- 
mous in their verdict, either favorable or the reverse, 
you may safely take that verdict as the most impartial, 



THE LITERARY LIFE. 33 

practical, and salutary guide possible to literary prog- 
ress. The editor can tell in such matters. If he cannot, 
nobody can. 

" Too many of our writers of to-day regard the literary 
standard much lower than it really is, and pose as 
divinely-inspired agents sent into this world to reform 
things in a literary sense. I have long ago ceased to 
worry about the literary standard of modern literary 
tastes. The taste of the public of to-day is all right, my 
friend. It is the man who is so dreadfully anxious about 
it who is wrong. Don't give yourself any unnecessary 
alarm about the literary public. Take my word for it, 
it is amply able to take care of itself. If you want to 
make a livelihood in literature, don't join the croakers 
who bewail modern literary degradation. Just find out 
for yourself the status, and then train your pen to cater 
to it. You will find it much higher than you anticipated. 
Write to the level of the croaker and the bewailer, and 
see how quick your manuscript comes back to you. 
Things are not always so black as they are painted, and 
this truth applies very strongly to the literary atmosphere 
of the present." 



34 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 



III. 

GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 

Contributors. — Edward W. Bok, Charles Warren Stoddard, 
Brander Mathews, William Dean Howells, Baron Adrian Schade 
van Westrum, Edward S. van Zile, Harriet H. Robinson, Julia A. 
Sabine, Lucy Stone, Louise Imogen Guiney, Margaret Deland, 
Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Edward Everett Hale, Lida A. Churchill. 

Edward W. Bok, the well-known editor and author, 
will speak to us here with appropriateness. Mr. Bok is 
not only a man of rare executive ability, but in com- 
position is master of a style perfect in its grace and 
charm, its luminous clearness and finished simplicity. 
He says, " I cannot do better than give you an extract 
from an article I recently contributed to the i Ladies' 
Home Journal ' : " — 

"Discouraged young authors are complaining that 
their manuscripts are returned with the editorial com- 
ment that 'the public does not care for this particular 
line of work,' and several have written asking, 'What 
will the public read ? ' My friends, the public will read 
anything that is bright and good, and the fresher it is 
the better. If you have not succeeded in pleasing the 



V 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 35 

public with what you have written, ten to one the fault 
lies with your work. Don't make yourself believe that 
the public is inappreciative. That is always the cry of 
the disgruntled author. The public is all right, and 
knows just what it wants. You just do your level 
best, and try to find what that is. And the quickest 
and best way to find it out is by experience. 

u One receipt for a successful literary hit is as follows : 
Get a fresh idea. Don't improve on somebody's else. 
The public shuns a literary imitator. Get a bright 
thought of your own, entirely original. Then write it 
out in article or in story. Go over it and cut it down 
one-half. Why? Because brevity is not only the soul 
of wit, but the soul of success as well. Don't use long 
or obsolete words. E very-day language, skillfully han- 
dled, is ample. Don't send people to the encyclopedia 
or dictionary to get your meaning. Some will do it, 
but the number is very, very small. Better be on the 
safe side and use simple words. The most effective 
sentences ever written were made of words of not more 
than two syllables. Try and tell the world something 
it doesn't know and wants to know. Do that, and suc- 
cess is yours. 

"Fancy writing is a grave into which hundreds of 
young writers are being buried. By fancy writing I 
mean soaring away over a moonlight, or badly describ- 



36 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

ing a sunset, as so many are doing. Now, my friends, 
you just leave fancy writing to some other author — you 
do the helpful and practical sort. You may not receive 
the approval of the intense literary set. But that need 
not worry you. There is another big portion of the pub- 
lic whose approval is worth having. Just try for that 
first ; then, if you can get the other too, so much the bet- 
ter. The helpful writers are the authors of the future, 
whose work is going to be in demand. Literary sun- 
sets and moonlights are all very pretty, but there is 
just about one author in every fifty years who makes 
a reputation on them; and, as a rule, that is all he 
does make. 

" G-et originality into your work, my friend. If your 
forte is writing articles, choose a new, bright, popular 
topic, and treat it freshly. Don't affect the dull and 
stupid essay style. Use few words. Make your sen- 
tences brief. Be crisp and make your thoughts crackle. 
If you lean to fiction, tear away from old plots and 
take an incident that a reader will recognize at once 
as being fresh. Make your dialogue natural and 
bright; let your characters move around and have a 
being. Stop when your story is told; a lively story 
of two thousand words, full of life and snap, has in it 
more prospect of success than a drawn-out tale of five 
thousand words. If you feel poetry to be your forte, 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 37 

appeal to the heart rather than the mind. Tell some 
every-day truth, and set it to a popular meter. Don't 
fail at blank verse when you can succeed at popular 
poetry. 

" The art of successfully naming an article or book is 
a bugbear to many an author. That it is an art is 
unquestionable. In these days the eye of the literary 
public must be quickly attracted, and a bright head-line 
to an article, or a fresh title on a book-cover, is invalu- 
able. No one can so well give a title, especially to 
a novel or a story, as can the author. This may seem 
like a truth scarcely worth repeating to some, but there 
are hundreds of authors who do not seem to know it. 
Almost every week brings me the outline of a story with 
a request that I name it. No one can do this success- 
fully. To give the right title to a story it is necessary 
to get thoroughly imbued with the spirit of it, and this 
no person can do so successfully as the author or some 
specially interested person. An outsider never can — 
especially from a mere outline of plot. 

" Too much care cannot be taken by an author about 
the title of a manuscript. A large percentage of the 
reading public who are buying books and reading articles 
are attracted by a striking title. I do not mean that 
a title must be sensational, far-fetched, and certainly it 
should not be irrelevant to the manuscript. But a fresh, 



38 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

snappy title that will pique curiosity is a strong point 
for the modern author to bear in mind and seek after. 
The danger is in overstepping the bounds. A book or 
an article cannot live by its title. You may get the pub- 
lic to buy it ; but if the material is secondary to the title 
the fact is not forgotten, and the effect is felt on the next 
thing you publish. On the other hand, many a good 
book has suffered because of a heavy, unattractive title. 
I recall one of the brightest and most clever stories I 
ever read, published last year, which was given a title 
that completely killed it. It was an exceedingly viva- 
cious and lively society novel, an exception to its class. 
But an unfortunate, one-word title was given to it, 
expressing nothing and suggesting precisely what people 
nowadays are not reading — heavy fiction." 

Charles Warren Stoddard, a man of great and 
diversified gifts, a born idealist, and an author of elevated 
and refined style, writes from the Catholic University of 
America at Washington, D. C. : — 

" My advice to all young writers is, be natural. I was 
far from it when I was young ; most young writers are : 
but the books I love to read are written in the simplest 
and purest English, and these are the books most easily 
remembered. If a man can talk well, and can write just 
as he talks, his style is pretty sure to be natural. Bril- 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 39 

liant and picturesque English is at times very attractive ; 
I feel the charm of it, and used to feed upon such books 
as filled my mouth with delicious words ; but for real or 
lasting pleasure I must seek simplicity. 

" The fact that I began to write rhymes when I was 
fifteen, and published an immature volume of verse a few 
years later, is one of which I am not proud; but the 
experience I gained in the nice selection of words and 
in the modeling of phrases no doubt did me a world of 
good. I no longer care to write verses, but enjoy try- 
ing to make prose musical. My first attempts in this 
line were anything but successful. I overshot the mark. 
This was, perhaps, fortunate. I had only to tone myself 
down to shoot. 

"I find that the work which is hardest to do, and the 
least cheering at the time I am doing it, proves in the end 
to be the best ; while another page, which I have dashed 
off with great ease and no little satisfaction, is in reality 
comparatively worthless. Therefore I say to all young 
writers, — when you write, write slowly, if you can, and 
carefully : then lay your work aside for a little while ; 
let it get cold, as it were, while you begin to forget it : 
go back after a time to your first draft, and you will be 
surprised to find how poor it is — or how good it is : 
rewrite it ; re-rewrite it ; lay it aside once more : when- 
ever you return to it try to simplify your sentences and 



40 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

make them clear and sweet, — and may you find the same 
quiet enjoyment in the labor that I have found." 

Brander Mathews, the author of many novels attract- 
ive and interesting for their vividly sketched characters 
and the unflagging animation of the narration, and also 
of a number of popular essays always marked by careful 
writing and strong common sense, says : — 

" The advice which I could give a beginner in literary 
work might be condensed into two sentences : First, do 
your best always ; second, cultivate a specialty, or several 
specialties. The sooner the beginner can win recognition 
as an expert in any department of knowledge, whether it 
be base ball or ceramics or missionary work, the brighter 
his prospects. And no reputation is more valuable than 
that of never scamping one's work." 

William Dean Howells has won for himself a per- 
manent place in the ranks of the most artistic, the most 
thoughtful, as well as the most brilliant, writers of our 
age. Shakespeare's men and women are not more alive 
than his ; while their sentiments and actions are por- 
trayed with a keen wit, a deep wisdom, and a knowledge 
of human nature truly remarkable. He says : — 

" The most that can be taught in authorship is so very 
little, and yet there is so much to be learned, that I think 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 41 

the skillfulest writer must feel that he is only getting the 
use of his tools at last. To say something from one's 
own knowledge and belief, and to say it simply and 
clearly, appears to me the beginning and ending of the 
whole matter. But this is hard." 

Baron Adrian Schade yan Westrum, editor of 
"Book Chat," and one of the noblest masters in the 
use of the English tongue, gives the following advice : — 

"In the reviewing of manuscript to-day, I think the 
reader stands in the wrong light to the public. It is 
my firm belief that no manuscript of true merit will ever 
miss the eye of the manuscript reader. 

" Friendship has nothing to do with the acceptance of 
a manuscript, though, to be sure, it may be influential in 
obtaining a quicker reading and a more ready answer. 
It should be remembered that no one in the literary world 
is more anxious to discover a new star than the reader 
for a publishing house ; and, known or unknown, the 
author who has a story to tell, and tells it well, will 
attract his attention. 

"The great idea clumsily expressed has, in my opinion, 
not so good a chance of being accepted as has a conven- 
tional thought from the pen of one trained to the 
technique of novel writing, and a master of style. 
Careful treatment will attract the attention of the pro- 



42 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

fessional manuscript reader at once, for he appreciates 
good workmanship for its own sake without regard to 
the subject on which it has been expended. 

"Half the battle is won by the young writer who has a 
thorough knowledge of the language in which he writes 
and of the technical part of his art ; his ideas will lose 
none of their freshness or originality through being 
treated with infinite care. To rely upon originality of 
thought as a valid excuse for poor workmanship, is to 
proceed on the supposition that a positive plus a negative 
make two positives." 

One of the youngest literary editors in America is 
Edward S. van Zile, editor of the "Literary Budget" 
of New York. He is the author of "Don Miguel," 
"Wanted — a Sensation," and many other clever tales, 
which have found an interesting nook in the majority of 
libraries and households all over the country. 

" I published four books before I was twenty-nine years 
of age," he says ; " and I personally regret that this is the 
fact, as I have become convinced that it is better for 
anybody who has the literary bee buzzing in his bonnet 
to wait until the bee has captured enough honey to make 
it as near a model as possible before rushing into print. 
My advice would be to remember the words of Horace, 
who became disgusted because the learned and unlearned 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 43 

wrote, and because the cacoethes scribendi was so preva- 
lent in Rome. He counseled writers to keep any manu- 
scripts that they might produce in their desks for nine 
years. This is an exaggerated way of putting a truth, 
valuable to all writers of fiction. 

" Once in a while a novelist or writer of short stories 
may take advantage of a certain phase of opinion that 
prevails at the moment, and make a hit where, nine years 
later, such an effort would be impossible. For instance, 
' Uncle Tom's Cabin,' which is not a classic, received its 
popularity because it was the outcome of the moment. 

" In regard to the future of American literature, to my 
mind the illustration is very pertinent that compares our 
yachts with the merchant marines and navies of the old 
world. The English novelists have always and will 
probably in the future produce better long stories than 
we do, just as their naval vessels and merchant marine 
are superior to ours. Our yachts are better than theirs. 
So in literature as on the high seas the same parallel 
exists, and our short stories are better than theirs. 
Probably the reason for our superiority in short-story 
writing is due in great part to our habits. 

"In our large cities there is more of the French mode 
of living than English. New York adopts more Parisian 
customs than it does English. Our well-known authors 
and story writers are making a study of Daudet, Guy 



44 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

de Maupassant, Belot, and other French writers, and 
are stamping their methods accordingly." 

Harriet H. Robinson, an author of considerable talent, 
whose books are deeply interesting and nobly written, 
says : — 

" If you have anything to say, any message that you 
think the world needs, any word that will make the peo- 
ple wiser and better for your saying it, by all means 
keep on writing. But do not therefore fancy that you 
are 'inspired.' Inspiration is a divine thing, and falls 
only on the few, and even if you think you have a little 
of it, remember that it will not prepare your manuscript 
for the printer. To do this you must read good books 
for style, and study the subjects on which you wish to 
write. In these days something is required besides ideas 
or even thoughts. They must be well expressed and put 
in good shape ; the technique must be looked to, and the 
English in which you write must be particularly cared 
for. When your book is written as well as you can 
write it, try to get a good publisher. It is a good thing 
to have a certain firm indorse your book, but remember 
that, after all, publishers are but for a day, while a good 
book is for all time. Finally, if you do not succeed in 
getting a publisher, publish your book yourself, and 
cheerfully take the consequences." 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 45 

Julia A. Sabine, whose well-ripened imagination, fin- 
ished workmanship, and vivid character-portraits mark 
her out as a story writer of a high order, says of 
herself : — 

" I doubt if any woman ever tried authorship who was 
so completely ignorant of the ways of authors as myself. 
I knew manuscript for the press should be written on 
one side only of the sheet • that it would be wisdom not 
to tie the manuscript with blue ribbon ; and that small 
sheets, sent without folding, were the correct thing. So 
much for the mechanical part. 

" If I had every thing to learn, I had nothing to un- 
learn. My first lesson came when my first story was 
returned as 'unavailable.' It was an awkward, ungainly- 
looking manuscript, betraying the tyro in every detail. 
I tried again ; my story was promptly i accepted.' So 
I have gone on to broader, and, as I believe, better fields. 

" Early in my writing there fell into my hands a letter 
of advice to young and inexperienced writers, from the 
pen of a very successful author. She enjoined upon 
beginners to publish at all events, — for payment, if pos- 
sible ; but, ' money or no money,' to get into print. She 
said publishing was an education ; that until one has 
become used to the printed article, it is impossible to 
excel in composition; that until one has acquired a 
name and reputation, it is impossible to sell one's work. 



46 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

"I followed her advice, which I have not found alto- 
gether satisfactory from a commercial view ; for I believe 
editors are human, and do not always respond with the 
coveted check. 

" With the advent of the type-writer a copy from the 
machine answers the purpose of print. Get your article 
type-written and study your work carefully. You will 
see your mistakes and errors of style and matter. 
Every thing lies with yourself." 

Lucy Stone Blackwell needs no introduction to the 
lovers of what is forceful and energetic in literature. 
She is more a propagandist than writer of books ; and 
yet, perhaps, her work has been of equal and even larger 
worth. As a charming platform speaker and journalist, 
the constant advocate of the worth of woman and her 
right to a broader recognition, she is as widely known as 
any other. Her insight into human nature, her deep and 
perennial-like sympathy, her outspoken and fearless stand 
always for what is best and sweetest in life, make these 
few characteristic words of hers especially worthy of 
attention. Cannot one almost read between the lines ? 

" I regard as the first essential to valuable authorship 
that one should have something to say that is worth say- 
ing, and, having said it, to stop." 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 47 

Louise Imogen Guiney, poet and author, whose work 
is marked by an extraordinary refinement and finish, in 
speaking of her own work, said : — 

" The wisdom I have so far accumulated is by no means 
sufficient for my proper needs. I am, moreover, too much 
of a skeptic regarding 'would-be authors' to think that 
any advice will much help genuine talent ; the true writer 
learns to write, perhaps, as young creatures learn to 
swim, by falling in and having nobody by for rescue. 
Not a single theory do I possess on the subject, save 
Ruskin's deep maxim, that <no right style was ever 
founded save out of a sincere heart ' ; and another, that 
only a lifelong diet on the best books, and these only, 
can enable one to produce literature. As to the demands 
of the day : God bless them ! I have not even a nodding 
acquaintance with them. I do all my demanding, in my 
small way, myself." 

Margaret Deland, the gifted author of " John Ward, 
Preacher," whose touch is so exquisite and masterly, and 
whose bright and sweet invention is so fruitful, so truth- 
ful, and so delightful, says : — 

"I should be very glad to contribute if I could honestly 
feel myself any sort of an authority. But the fact is I 
am still a pupil ; I still have to toil and moil and work 
over my manuscript after the fashion of a ' prentice han.' 



48 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

"If I wrote any thing it would be to say that I have 
come to the conclusion that advice as to how to write is 
futile. Everybody must write in his own way, and that 
way will differ as the individuals differ. Sucli a differ- 
ence, of course, creates style ; but it has seemed to me to 
make instruction unnecssary." 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, the poet and novelist, is a 
writer whose style is almost startling in its brilliance 
and intensity. It is crisp, nervous, energetic, beautiful. 
Whatever comes from the pen of Ella Wheeler Wilcox — 
poem, novel, essay — is written with a vigor and power 
of fascination unexceled by any living American author. 
Speaking of poetry from the financial standpoint she 
said : — 

"I can imagine no more absurd question, unless it be 
'Does beauty pay?' People who are born to write 
poetry, write it, whether it 'pays' from the butter and 
egg standpoint or not, just as people who are beautiful 
look beautiful whether they receive 'prize' medals there- 
for or not. 

"From the financial point poetry may -pay' if the poet 
writes enough, and it is good enough, and he lives long 
enough, and his purpose is true enough ; but for the young 
dreamer who possesses a knack at verse to indulge in 
dreams of making an honest living through his poems 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 49 

is about as sensible as it would be for a small boy to 
attempt to ' scull ' his way across the Atlantic in a row 
boat." 

Abby Morton Diaz, author of that very bright book, 
1 William Henry's Letters/ and several popular juvenile 
works, also an essayist of great ingenuity, originality, 
and earnestness, writes as follows : — 

"'To write or not to write' — the answer depends 
upon yourself. In this respect writing is like any other 
business ; and, like any other business, success in it 
depends upon : ts opportunities and capabilities of sup- 
plying a markel need. Also, like any other, it demands 
industry, a capacity for work, unlimited patience, and 
strict attention to details, even if this imply drudgery. 

" Once upon i time there was a young and impecunious 
person whose Jacile pen could write off-hand the most 
entertaining letters. People told her that by this facile 
pen, together wth her vivacity, intelligence, her love and 
appreciation of iterature, and her easy flow of language, 
the much-needed money could surely be obtained. 

"Inspired by his hope Miss Enthusiasm wrote out an 
account of sometiing which had recently taken place in 
her own interesting locality and sent it to an author 
friend for criticism The friend gave it close examina- 
tion, carefully noing slips of grammar, faults in construe- 



/ 
50 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE, 

J 

tion, ambiguity of expression, and, in returning it, suggested 
that the writer, instead of submitting it tq an editor with 
the numerous corrections made on the manuscript, should 
re- write the whole, in order that each page might present 
a fair appearance ; telling her as a reason/for the sugges- 
tion, that, with such abundance of manuscripts pouring in 
upon them, editors would never take tine to wind their 
way through hers by so many devious ; paths, stopping 
often to decipher an illegible word. Suggestions were 
also made as to ways of learning to wriijb for the market 
and in regard to the preparation of mantscript for print. 
The young person said in reply she could never take all 
that trouble with the manuscript, addind that if writing 
required so much painstaking she would (have to give it 
up. Yet her manuscript covered very! few pages. I 
think it was Carlyle who said that • genius is but a tran- 
scendent painstaking.' Dickens declared that if he had 
done any thing worth the doing it was by persevering 
industry. 

" To write or not to write ? A good 
that if you have enough to say which enc|ugh people wish 
to hear, and if you can and will say it ip. a way to make 
them hear, then write. There is much to be said, and 
our country yields a large audience." 

Edward Everett Hale, the celebrated preacher, 



nswer would be 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 51 

essayist, and author of that wonderful book, " The Man 
without a Country," evidently thinks advice is worthless. 
He says : — 

"I distrust these very short cuts if any one expects 
really to find that he can do in a few weeks what has 
never been done without many years of study." 

The series of contributions contained in this chapter 
may be appropriately brought to a close by some strong, 
helpful words and valuable suggestions generously con- 
tributed by Lida A. Churchill, the author of several 
books admirably written and revealing an individuality 
both striking and unconventional. She believes that 
good writing is a gift, not an art. Concerning this 
subject she says : — 

" ' Are authors born or made ? ' has been asked me in 
substance many times. They are both born and made. 
Mind you, I do not say they are made and born ; for I 
do not think any thing of this kind ever happens. The 
talent for writing must be in one's mental make-up before 
it can come out. It cannot be manufactured and then 
poured in. It begins from the inside. 

"First, then, an author is born. Nature puts her 
trade-mark upon him and he cannot escape his destiny. 
How shall he know if he is ' called and chosen ' to and 
for one of the most glorious and yet disappointing, one 



52 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

of the most satisfying and yet heart-breaking, one of the 
most fascinating and yet laborious, of professions ? 

" One cannot be mistaken. If, before writing any thing, 
one pause to consider whether authorship shall be the 
work of his life, let him abandon all thought of it. He 
has not the royal trade-mark upon him. One does not 
choose authorship ; authorship chooses him. 

" Deep in the heart of our forests, miles away from any 
sign of habitation or civilization, there are thousands of 
birds who sing and sing. It never occurs to them to ask 
whether they shall sing or not. The fact that their notes 
may never be heard by mortal ear does not come into 
their bird-heads. They do not question whether they 
might not secure the wherewithal to exist by singing. 
They simply sing ; sing from necessity ; sing because they 
must. Doubtless if it could be borne in upon their con- 
sciousness that they might, by the vocation which had 
chosen them, please and instruct people and at the same 
time secure crumbs or worms, they would be glad to 
have this so and would try to profit by their opportu- 
nities. But in any case they would sing. 

"Away in lonely farmhouses, hidden among barren 
hills, miles from other habitations or civilization, there 
are authors who write and write. They do not begin by 
asking if they can or shall write. It does not occur to 
them to wonder if any one will ever read their words. 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 53 

They never question whether they ean secure a livelihood 
by writing. They simply write ; write from necessity ; 
write because they must. Some day the thought will 
doubtless come to them that they might, by the work 
which had chosen them, please and instruct others and 
earn thereby the wherewithal to live, and they are glad 
of this hope and possibility ; but whether the possibility 
becomes a reality, whether the hope is crowned with 
certainty, or otherwise, they will write. 

"Again, the born author had much rather earn a little 
money by authorship than a great deal in some other 
way. He is happier with the barest surroundings and 
the plainest food paid for by his pen than with sumptu- 
ous furnishings and the most expensive viands earned by 
other than his own work. 

"Louisa Alcott, in her tiny, comfortless, Boston room, 
the rent of which was paid by some written tale, with 
her bakers' food and bottle of milk secured as the wages 
of some story, would not have exchanged places, if she 
must also have exchanged work, with a woman of any 
other handicraft though her apartments might be a bower 
of comfort and loveliness and her daily living a feast. 

" I do not believe it ever occurred to Fanny Fern, when 
she received fifty cents for her first published article, to 
wish she had turned her energies to something by which 
she could have earned five dollars. 



54 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

" The born author may not be able to earn even a poor 
livelihood wholly by his pen. Comparatively few authors 
have ever done this from the first; a large number never 
have done it at all. If you look through the history of 
our most popular and best paid writers you will find that 
they have for the most part fought their way to places 
where authorship would give them even a very moderate 
maintenance, — from the reporter's note-book, the editor's 
den, the physician's office, the teacher's seat, the stenog- 
rapher's desk, or the book-keeper's stool. Through years 
of toil and poverty and hopes deferred and heart-sick- 
ness they always turned their eyes and their thoughts 
towards the great thing of their lives, the great work in 
which they must succeed or die hoping to succeed; in 
leisure hours, when weariness hung upon them like a 
heavy garment, and success was not even distantly in 
sight, — that through all this they wrote, and never 
dreamed of ceasing to write, shows that they were among 
authorship's ' elect.' Had they done less it would have 
shown that they were not worthy of or equal to the 
demands of their high calling. 

"Secondly, authors are made. Genius is talent plus 
labor. 'How shall I learn to love my p*eople ? ' asked a 
French prince of his father. 'My son, by loving them/ 
answered the wise sire. How shall one learn to write 
acceptably and well? By writing. Not by spasmodic 



GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 55 

writing, but by writing continually. By putting one's 
thoughts correctly, clearly, concisely, interestingly, on 
paper as often as possible. 

"But one must know something in order to write 
something. One cannot make something of nothing. 
Assuredly not. 

"Read carefully the best books: those written in the 
purest English — or in the purest of any other language 
one may know ; the books that make the most clean-cut 
statements, that tell facts in the most forcible and inter- 
esting way. Bead history, philosophy, poetry, novels, — 
for the double purpose of making wise and entertaining 
one's self and enabling one to make wise and entertain 
others. 

"Take some author whose knowledge one can trust, 
and study his mode of punctuation. Make sure after 
what combination of words he uses periods, colons, 
semicolons, commas ; where he makes use of dashes, of 
exclamation points, etc. 

"Learn from some printed direction, or friend who 
writes, how to prepare manuscript. One must be a sec- 
ond Milton, or surely not less popular than Elizabeth 
Stuart Phelps, to insure the reading of his manuscript 
if it be written on both sides of the paper. 

"Understand fully the value of plain writing. Rolled 
manuscript is an abomination in the sight of an editor or 



56 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

publisher. Boil down letters to editors, never doubting that 
a long communication accompanying a manuscript often 
condemns said manuscript before it is examined. Editors 
do not like fancy inks. Give name and address both on 
the manuscript and in the letter accompanying it, and 
inclose stamps for the return of the manuscript. Do 
not think these things are of small moment. No one 
can possibly succeed as an author unless he recognizes 
the almightiness of detail. 

"Two last things an author must have : clear grit and 
unswerving patience. He must be brave enough to see 
his articles come back ' declined with thanks' — and 
sometimes without thanks — fifty times, and fifty times 
send them forth again. He must be strong enough to 
look discouragement again and again in the face and 
not be cowed by it ; or, if for a moment overcome, to rise 
with a fresh and determined ' I will ! ' to begin again. 
He must blot the words l give up ' out of his vocabulary. 
He must not move by impulse, but with the steady con- 
tinuity which a brave and determined purpose always 
gives. Wise will he be if he lays to heart Emerson's 
high advice: 'Never strike sail to a fear. Come into 
port greatly, or sail with God the seas.' " 



THE MODERN PRESS. 57 



IV. 

THE MODERN PRESS. — JOURNALISM. 

Contributors. — George Canning Hill, George Batholomew, Fran- 
cis M. Livingston, A. Curtis Bond, Madeline S. Bridges, Cora 
Stuart Wheeler. 

George Canning Hill, an editor of many years' 
experience and an author of considerable repute, is well 
qualified to speak to us here. Careful study, deliberate 
conviction, brave utterance, chastened eloquence, always 
characterize Mr. Hill's writings. The following paper 
is a philosophical analysis and a compact estimate of the 
character, power, and promise of the American press, 
such as is not to be met with among the many cursory 
and superficial eulogisms which so prominent a subject 
constantly invites. The searching sentences of Mr. Hill 
are of eloquent impressiveness, and challenge the repeated 
reading of those whose instant attention they will en- 
gage. He says : — 

" So far as the press is recognized as a power, it is a 
reflex as much as a positive one. If no journal could be 
produced without the help of other ones, neither could 



58 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

they exist at all without our current social state to 
demand them. This is no less the inspiration of their 
being than the excuse for it. The press is the universal 
reporter, advertiser, commentator. It collects the scat- 
tered rays of fleeting intelligence and binds them in 
a single sheaf. It serves as the focus of passing views 
and opinions. It knows no corner and no night. Steam 
is its cicerone and electricity is its courier. It expresses 
and spreads the common thought more than it corrects 
or directs it. Its enterprise has so far gained on its 
reflectiveness, because, like the world it serves, it is more 
eager for news than for methods or results. It has not 
yet put on the prophet's mantle, but is satisfied for the 
time to be the runner and the gatherer. In an age that 
is almost morbidly active for discoveries, that studies 
alike the star-beam and the working of the murderer's 
conscience, it, too, is flushed with the wine of the new 
spirit, and inquires up and down the world for its untold 
secrets. The first result may be sensationalism, but the 
thick rind often hides a sweet and succulent fruit. 

" The press differs from all other recognized social 
forces in being the only silent one; omniscient and 
omnipresent in the human sense, it utters its most 
impressive words without the sound of a voice. For 
such a reason is it that it secures at once and every- 
where the confidence of a personal companionship. Thus 



THE MODERN PRESS. 59 

does it buttonhole the absorbed hack-driver sitting in 
the open door of his carriage, and abstract the lawyer 
among the noisy arguments of the court-room. Being 
silent, it is impersonal also. Its devotees need ask for 
no honors higher than the single one of its implicit 
service. They must be content to know without being 
known. The potent but subtle magnetism of personal 
association with such a force is reward and honor 
enough. The true journalist keeps behind the throne. 
The deus ex machina never shows itself. The inexplicable 
We is forbidden to be revealed. Within this simple 
mystery is wrapped up very much of the power. In 
expression the press is versatile to the extent of all- 
sidedness. It presents a facet to every ray of intelli- 
gence to intercept it. It does not as yet make opinions 
as fast as it collects and presents them, and by this par- 
allel rendering of their sentiments and views communities 
are brought closer together, and human society tends 
continually to unity. To show what others say and 
think is still its leading office ; what it thinks itself is 
but the secondary commentary. From those who oper- 
ate it it extorts a solitary service, while of itself it 
produces intensely social results. With steam and the 
electric fluid for its willing servitors, it lays continents 
under contribution, throws bridges across oceans and 
seas, and invites men of widely-sundered states and 



60 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

countries to a more intimate neighborhood and friend- 
ship. So vigorously does it churn together the elements 
and outcome of the general experience that stagnation 
henceforth becomes impossible. If it does not generate 
thought, it at least quickens thinking ; and that is, per- 
haps, all the life there is to speak of. 

" Obedient as the press may seem to be, it is, neverthe- 
less, sleeplessly jealous of its standing and influence, lest 
they be either underrated or misapplied. It is an unerr- 
ing measurer and gauger of public men, and best knows 
the diminutiveness of most estimated great ones. An 
integer in the fabric of society, it has a scorn of being 
thought to represent merely individual interests. The 
personal organ is dead the day it is born. If to-day, 
therefore, it is the advocate, to-morrow it is the judge. 
If it is the eulogist now, it was the censor yesterday. 
Though it have three hundred and sixty-five opinions in 
the year, it is none the less consistent always. Not as 
yet has it won its rank among the learned professions, 
and it is doubtful if it ever will, for it must needs be 
practical instead of technical, and liberal rather than 
learned. In this country it is not recognized as the 
stepping-stone to public preferments, and it perhaps gains 
by the dissociation. In England it is the accepted touch- 
stone of intellectual capacity, recruiting Parliament, the 
bar, and the schools of authorship. In France it is the 






THE MODERN PRESS. 61 

acknowledged finishing-school of publicists and statesmen, 
and the entree into the best society. With us politicians 
would fain make a sort of whetstone of it to sharpen 
and polish their blades ; advertisers find in it the greater 
part of their intangible capital; lawyers and doctors 
resort to it as birds do to the hedges for shelter; the 
grand army of grievance-bearers marches up and flings 
down its knapsacks full of complaints at its feet; the 
accused fly to it with their ready explanations ; the 
defamed with their denials and defenses ; the philoso- 
phers with their remedies, the poets with their fol-de-rol, 
and the female sex with their endless causes. 

" The world at large seeks the cover of its sheltering 
fold. Everybody is eager to proclaim his existence, and 
something more, through its effectual agency ; they alone 
excepted who are in the real secret and sit silent at the 
source of its power. It is Argus, Briareus, Hercules, 
and Hermes rolled into one. Day and night it keeps 
its messengers running, flying, swimming, delving, looking, 
and listening, and with their faithful assistance it man- 
ages to turn the world inside out. For it a Schliemann 
uncovers Homeric Troy to verify the immortal story ; a 
Stanley cuts the dark core out of the forbidden fruit of 
Africa ; governments despatch astronomers to the far-off 
capes to report the transit of Yenus and correct the dis- 
tance of the sun ; a Sitting Bull harangues his harlequin 



62 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

braves, and swings around the circle of Indian villages ; 
the tireless interviewer pulls the bell at all front doors ; 
and the local gossip glues his capacious ear to every 
private keyhole. All this purely for the production 
and dissemination of intelligence, the valuable and 
valueless. 

"It supplants the orator, compresses verbose debate 
into pregnant statement, makes only straightforward 
business of legislation, and turns eloquence into the 
raw staple of facts and figures. It edits the telegraph, 
the mails, the caucus and convention, the legislature, 
science, art, and invention, commerce, law, and agri- 
culture. It is the free publisher for them all; makes 
their announcements, adjusts their differences, and assures 
their influence. It boils down books, extracts the soul 
from treatises, culls bouquets from the garden of the 
poets, gives flexibility and present use to learning, sets 
professors in Greek to writing on international law, 
and, in general, sifts, assorts, and distributes literature. 
Its insatiate appetite for news — presenting horrors and 
humors in parallel columns — will, however, create a 
surfeit some time in the future, and, after that is over, 
will yield to the finer suggestions of its palate for 
thought and reflection. Just at the present time it is 
not greatly given to the nicer moral shadings, but flings 
the pigment on the canvas with a rapid brush, and 



THE MODERN PRESS. 63 

exhibits all things together in the same uniformly fierce 
glare of light. But this fault of loudness will gradually 
be disciplined down to a low-keyed suggestiveness with 
a steadier aim and more practiced engineering; and it 
will yet become the true living outline of the national 
literature. 

* Never, while a sleepless, voiceless, bodiless, and name- 
less power like this enjoys existence and a place in society, 
need there be felt the least apprehension for the return 
of the Middle Ages to the human mind, or of its drifting 
insensibly back into a l cycle of Cathay.' It blows the 
winged seeds of intelligence beyond the reach of all forms 
of mental tyranny. It is itself the grand inquisition of 
thought. It is at once Agora and Academe. Dead stag- 
nation will never befall while it continues to stir into 
ferment the social mass. Public opinion, through its 
ubiquitous agency, will always be kept alive and sweet. 
The breakfast takes its relish from its welcome presence, 
and the tea is agreeably flavored with its chat. In one 
respect it certainly differs from all other products of 
human aptitude and industry — it can never become a 
monopoly; not, at least, until water runs up hill and 
tariffs are adjusted to protect all classes equally. As its 
erect front is stamped, in this our day, with the indelible 
mark of enterprise and unrest, so, in some other day, 
when the external in life changes places in a measure 



64 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

with the internal, will that front wear the still deeper 
lines of thought and meditation. In that day it will 
become a great deal more than the marvelous servant of 
awakened intellectual curiosity, something more than a 
busy purveyor of news and a tireless runner on errands ; 
and, teaching while in the act of serving, it will instruct 
the popular mind in the deep soundings of judgment, 
the reality that reposes in a thoughtful tranquillity of life, 
and the measureless riches to be got from the inexhaust- 
ible mine of habitual contemplation." 

JOURNALISM. 

Journalism is, perhaps, the commonest form of the lit- 
erature of to-day. To say the least, it is the most read, 
for the reason that the literature of events is that most 
sought after. The code is brevity. Why ? Because in 
America the idea is condensation, pure and simple. A 
statement of fact is enough. The reader supplies his 
own romance. 

When writing for the press, put as many ideas as 
possible in the fewest possible words. Nothing is more 
desirable than brevity. l Boil down ' your matter before 
submitting it to an editor or publisher. Guard against 
verbosity as mortal sin. 

Commercial business now requires that the high- 
pressure principle be applied to every transaction; 



JOUKNALISM 65 

every thing must be done systematically and with dis- 
patch. Literary business must be transacted in much the 
same way. The demand of the day is for short stories, 
and, at present, is largely in excess of the supply. The 
chief requisites for a short story are brightness and con- 
ciseness. A story, to be good, must not necessarily be 
a love story; good domestic, hygienic, and educational 
stories are in demand. A short story should never be 
over five thousand words. A good story of two thousand 
words is worth as much as one of five thousand words. 
Any writer who has any thing earnest or helpful to say 
on any of the live issues of the day may be sure of a 
hearing. There is always a market for hard, common- 
sense suggestion concerning economy of social, business, 
and domestic forces. 

There seems to be a prevailing impression in the 
minds of many young writers, that in journalism nowa- 
days nothing counts but the name which is attached to a 
manuscript. Merit is no longer considered by editors ; they 
are only looking for names, names, names. If a famous 
name is attached to the manuscript, acceptance is assured ; 
if the name be unknown, declination is positive. 

There is no real basis for this talk. What has just 
as much value as a name in journalism to-day, and about 
one thousand times more, is originality. The fresh and 
live title on the first page of an article will attract an 



66 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

editor's interest just as quickly as the name signed on 
the last page. New names, with talent behind them, are 
worth ten times as much to a live newspaper or magazine 
as famous ones. Originality tells just as quickly in the 
manuscript of an unknown writer as in that of a famed 
author. It is not so much a question of t Who ? ' as it is 
of < What?' 

An editor cannot conduct a successful newspaper or 
magazine on famous names alone. It has been tried over 
and over again, and each time has complete failure come 
to convince the venturesome of his mistake. The three 
most distinct successes of last year in one well-known mag- 
azine were made with two anonymous articles and a story, 
of the author of which no one had ever heard. The editor 
of a leading review said recently that within the past two 
years he had published seven articles of commanding 
success. Two were signed by famous names ; three were 
anonymous ; and the other two were by writers who had 
never penned a single line for print before, and had no 
reputation in any walk of life. 

George Batholomew, twenty-five years managing 
editor of the "New York Daily News," says : — 

"Merit generally warrants the acceptance of a manu- 
script. Ladies always receive a respectful hearing, but 
many of them have the idea that their particular produc- 



JOURNALISM. 67 

tion is surpassingly good, and that it ought not to be 
rejected by any one. 

" The main point necessary to a young writer who 
wishes his manuscript accepted is to suit the particular 
need of the newspaper to whom he may offer them. For 
instance, the 'New York Sun' does not print the same 
kind of correspondence about nature that is noticeable in 
the 'New York Evening Post.' The 'Sun' pays attention 
to nature as it appears to a hunter and a fisherman, and, 
as a rule, is ready to accept any story that is novel or 
entertaining about such sports. The 'Evening Post' 
accepts correspondence which describes nature in her 
loveliest or grandest views, — the flora, the insect world, 
the pastoral qualities, all in delicate word-painting, which 
makes a distinct literary attraction for the thoughtful." 

Francis M. Livingston, a well-known New York 
journalist, adds his testimony to show what a beginner 
may do, and that even in New York there may be such a 
thing as a virgin field. He says : — 

" A few years ago a young man came to New York 
from the South. He was desirous of entering the 
newspaper field, but was totally without experience in 
journalistic work. He tried at all the newspaper offices, 
but in vain. Nobody would have him. He next tried 
for an out-of-town correspondence, and spent many dol- 



68 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

lars for postage stamps which carried his New York 
letters to the waste baskets of many country editors. 
Still he did not despair, but worked ahead, making all the 
acquaintances he could and occasionally doing a little 
free-lance work on the city papers. 

"One day a fortunate idea occurred to him, or was 
suggested by a friend. He went to work and prepared 
a letter about Southern people living in New York, and 
sent it to a Southern newspaper. It was accepted and 
the editor asked for another. The second letter was 
written, and it touched upon all topics in New York city 
of interest to the South about which the young man could 
obtain any information. This letter he manifolded and 
sent out to twenty Southern papers. Seven of them took 
it, and with this nucleus he went to work to build up 
what is now a syndicate of papers all over the South, all 
of which print this New York Southern letter weekly and 
pay well for it." 

In journalism, even cable news-writing and telegraphic 
work of all descriptions are carried to the highest point 
of perfection. The most prominent and best-known 
cablegram composer and telegraphic-news writer in New 
York city is A. Curtis Bond, American manager of Dal- 
ziel's cable, and an author of considerable talent. He 
says : — 



JOURNALISM. 69 

" Cable news has become such a distinctive element in 
the modern paper that it has called for special adapta- 
bility and attention in those selected for its preparation. 
At ten cents a word, which is the press rate for cable 
matter, the first essential of this news is brevity, but the 
greatest necessity is the quality in the editor who makes 
up the telegrams to determine what is of international 
interest. 

"As a rule, the statement merely of the facts in con- 
nection with news cabled is sufficient, and this should be 
limited to the striking features, leaving the elaboration 
of the story, as well as supplying the information which 
leads up to the condition of affairs described in the cable, 
to the editor of the paper receiving it. Upon some occa- 
sions, — such, for instance, as a prominent law trial or 
great social event where local color is absolutely neces- 
sary, — it is not only justifiable but proper to spend a few 
hundred dollars in describing the people present or the 
decorations of the place. 

"In the selection of words describing events, adjectives, 
excepting upon rare occasions, should be omitted, and 
the other terms employed should be such as to indicate 
in themselves whether the incident was of the great- 
est importance or only of mediocre interest; so, too, 
with the small words, they can generally be omitted 
from a sentence without interfering with its clear- 



70 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

ness, and yet often the introduction of an <a' or an 
'and' may give the proper understanding to what 
otherwise would be unintelligible in an abbreviated 
dispatch. 

" But all this may be called the mechanical part of the 
business ; the instinct of what to select, I think, is born 
in a man. An incident that perhaps would fill every 
paper in its own city, and give them matter for the entire 
week, might not be worth a line to a foreign country; 
while, on the other hand, such an event as the well-remem- 
bered Birchall trial in Canada, which excited but little 
comment here, called for over seven thousand words of 
cable daily during its continuance, which I personally 
sent to London. 

" As this phase of the business will open greater oppor- 
tunities in the future to the newspaper man, I should 
advise beginners to prepare for it by cultivating a terse 
style, by confining their writing to facts instead of elab- 
oration, and by carefully watching the public taste here 
and abroad, as reflected in the respective papers, so as to 
familiarize themselves with the character of news that 
is most popular with both." 

Madeline S. Bridges, one of the most popular 
American poets of the day, and an author of marked 
talent, whose spirited, dramatic stories, written with 



JOURNALISM. 71 

great animation and force, are very widely read, 
says : — 

" I have absolutely no rules for work — no method of 
any kind. I began to write little stories and verses as 
soon as I could hold a pen ; and before that I used to 
compose them and tell them to other children. My first 
poem was written when I was eight years old. It was 
very sorrowful, and the tears poured down my face while 
I scribbled it on the leaf of an old account book. I was 
in print when I was fourteen. 

" All my first work was in a very serious vein, — my 
development into humorous writing was a surprise to 
myself. In fact, I am not yet convinced that I have any 
talent in that direction. I think it is a mistake on the 
part of the editors. So, you see, I cannot from my own 
experience advise literary beginners how to become 
humorists. Indeed, I do not know how to advise them 
to become any thing, because I was never aware of any 
of the processes of my own mental evolution. Like 
Topsy, 'I spect I growed.' 1 had one advantage, how- 
ever ; I was born into the atmosphere of literature. My 
father was a journalist and author; and I learned to 
hate Shelley and Keats, at an early age, from hearing my 
mother read them aloud to an admiring circle. I rather 
think, though, that my hatred of these exquisite poets 
arose from the fact that their music and mystery were 



72 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

too much for my childish soul to bear. As I grew older, 
Tennyson was my dream and my delight. There is no 
fount more pure at which the young mind can drink. . . . 
And dear Stedman's first volume, t Lyrics and Idyls/ was 
to me a most true and deep inspiration. I owe him much 
of all that I have accomplished in literature. 

"I began by saying that I have no methods of work, 
but I have one. It is to keep a large blank book at 
hand, in which I write any odd thought that comes 
along, — a suggestion for a poem, the plot of a story, 
stray rhymes and verses, a bit of dialogue ; any thing, 
in fact, that may occur to me at random, — and it is aston- 
ishing how easy it is to build on these foundations later. 
This plan has been of so great value to me that I can 
warmly recommend it to others ; especially, perhaps, as it 
is the only instance of order or forethought in my vari- 
ous and varying modes of procedure as a ceaselessly 
busy writer. 

"I wish to help the young writers, but, you see, my 
example would be a bad one to follow, because I am 
a will-o'-the-wisp. I write any time and every time ; 
all sorts of ways and no sorts of ways. I begin things 
and never finish them ; and I finish things that I don't 
begin. My work is never work to me, but always play ; 
yet I somehow accomplish a great deal and find ready 
market for all I do." 



JOURNALISM. 73 

Cora Stuart Wheeler, a well-known writer of very 
versatile power, whose work is marked by a culture of 
rare distinction, critical ability, and a signal penetration, 
generously contributes the following practical advice to 
young writers. She says : — 

"Xenocrates, when reproached that his voice was not 
heard when some excitement was brewing, replied, <I 
have sometimes had occasion to regret that 1 have spoken, 
never that I was silent.' 

"To be asked to say something that will assist the 
would-be author is to confront a problem, and one most 
wisely met by silence lest one regret having spoken. I 
yield my contribution to this well-intentioned symposium 
of advice against a sincere conviction that t the crowd in 
the aisles may watch the door,' but young genius should 
be left to find the key that unlocks it after his own fash- 
ion. It seems to me never best or wise to surround the 
young writer with too much l literary atmosphere.' Such 
hot-house treatment is too apt to force a sickly plant into 
sudden and precocious efflorescence only to hasten its 
untimely end. 

"The feverish productions of such immature writers 
are the source of much of the passion-teeming fiction 
which flaunts its gaudy cover in the face of the judicious ; 
the so-called literature that makes the task of protecting 
the purity of our growing families a more complicated 



74 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

task to-day than ever before. These writers, encouraged 
by the false kindness of friends, have mistaken for the 
fires of genius the undisciplined impulses of a heart and 
mind awakening to the mysteries of life. Instead of 
waiting with patience and reverence their unfolding in 
the light of a ripe experience that would make utterance 
golden, the thoughts and imaginings, ill-understood by 
their author, are scattered broadcast, with clamorous 
heralding, to take root in other equally undisciplined 
natures. The would-be author becomes one de facto, and 
simple ' Sammy Smith ' is transformed into ' Samuel 
Witherington Smith, the brilliant/ etc., by a stroke of 
the paragrapher's pen. 

" It seems to me (for how may I dare be sure that 'tis 
so simply because it seems so to me) a presumption for 
writers to discuss theoretically before the reading public 
topics strange to their own experience, erecting after 
this manner well-lettered guide-boards pointing out a 
road their own feet never travel. For one to write upon 
' Housebuilding and Artistic Furnishing ' who has never 
built a house, whose selection of furniture has been lim- 
ited to ' a parlor-set of green rep ' with which to furnish 
a boarding-house bower; a vagabond, living upon the 
earnings of others, to write fiery editorials on national 
legislation for the benefit of his fellows ; an Egyptologist 
to write of ' Fashion's Whims'; or one born to pecun- 



JOURNALISM. 75 

iary irresponsibility to tell us ' How to Save Money ' or 
of ' Business Success made Easy/ — all of these, or equal 
inconsistencies, are daily before our eyes and an offense 
against public weal, since their apparently sincere advice 
is an empty repetition of words, misleading and dishonest. 

" No one is forced to tell his experience. Xenocrates 
did not carry his secret into the grave. But let each 
who speaks with a responsible pen teach only that lesson 
which he himself has first conned and applied. Let me 
presume to offer only such practical points as in my own 
brief career have borne fruits of quiet but steady progress 
toward moderate success. 

" Guard early against voluminous manuscript. The 
tendency of the new writer, young or old, is to over- 
elaboration. Learn from some experienced friend on 
the press — for its rules are more exacting — the most 
tidy and concise and easily read manner of preparing 
your copy. The waste-basket will yawn less often for 
your ambitious screeds ; but, with every advantage, you 
will soon lose count of the offspring buried in that 
unpleasant sepulcher. 

"Present your picture or your individuality with the 
fewest possible touches, and these only upon the salient 
points. If you write a love story, leave the length of 
Belinda's nose and the number of her shoe to the read- 
er's imagination. Indeed, most readers have sufficient 



76 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

grasp to assume the normal number of features if no 
mention is made of them at all. No reader of Dickens 
would wish to miss the scar upon Eosa Dartle's lip, 
however ; and when a beauty or defect is an index, to the 
reader, of certain mental qualities, do not understand 
that I would not have you set it forth. 

"Unless you discover a rare gift of painting scenery 
with vivid words leave that also to your reader's intelli- 
gent imagination. But when you locate a scene in a 
region teeming with local color, which is to be the very 
keystone of your story, be accurate in dialect, in flora, 
architecture, costuming; and write of none of these if 
unfamiliar to you. If you introduce a legal point, con- 
sult a lawyer among your acquaintance as to its truth. 
If a curious illness marks a climax in your novelette, 
make yourself familiar with each phase of the actual 
malady from the library or through the courtesy of your 
family physician. If you describe a papal or Church of 
England ceremonial, and are not a churchman of either 
faith, do not make wild guesses as to the meaning of 
eucharist, lecturn, chasuble, and stole; for they have 
diverse meanings, and transubstantiation is not, as one 
writer seriously explained, 'the final anointing before 
death of a Catholic' The above are but details, yet 
these very simple hints are born of toilsome and mercir 
less editing of my own writings. 






JOURNALISM. 77 

" If an editor of standing finds a line in your favorite 
sonnet obscure, or interprets it not at all as the muse 
sung it in your poetic soul, assume for the nonce that he 
represents the general public, and accept his reading if 
possible. Otherwise concentrate your energies upon 
phrasing the line to interpret your meaning so that he 
who runs may read; since no society is likely to be 
formed, for some years yet, to elucidate your verses, as 
has been done for Robert Browning. It is easy to train 
ourselves to discern the weakness of our own work if 
we set out conscientiously to criticise, instead of coddling 
or condoning, our offenses against literary construction. 
Such a list of them — ranting in place of rapture, bathos 
instead of pathos. While inclined to severity, treat your- 
self to the same patience that you would exercise toward 
a stranger. For some time I accepted any editor's 
verdict of " Return " as proof that my manuscript was a 
mistake, and tossed it into the waste-basket. Doubtless 
a wise procedure in six out of eight cases ; but I have 
lived to regret that I threw away the whole eight, or the 
ideas which that number typifies, since I have learned to 
be less prodigal. 

11 Certain well-known writers work over their manu- 
scripts many times with painstaking interpolation ; much 
to its improvement, as they declare. For me to follow 
their methods is to filter out the very soul of my discourse. 



78 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

Discovering this, after various sincere efforts at imitating 
greatness, I took pains to write my sketch or story in the 
first instance as though no copy was to be made, which 
has resulted in an Unconscious care in choice of words, 
as well as general neatness ; which saves much manual 
labor and time, when, as not unfrequently occurs, but few 
erasures and changes are needed before sending the copy 
to the place of its destination. This is always my habit 
in short essays or correspondence where I am reasonably 
sure of its entire acceptability. A second copy of any 
thing sent l on approval ' should always be retained ; and, 
when much manuscript is sold through a bureau, duplicates 
sent will often save time when one is lost in the mails. 
The habit of thinking out one's theme carefully at first 
has also on occasion been invaluable when something 
was called for within a few hours. In one instance it 
enabled me to sit down at ten o'clock and write the title 
of a story of twenty-five hundred words, and write 
steadily on to the climax, turning in the copy on time 
at six o'clock. 

" As versification was an inherited gift, it seems not to 
have occurred to me that any thing so natural and easy 
could possibly be made remunerative. Certainly having 
once resolved to meet the exigencies of life with my pen 
as my staff and weapon, I set to work to write simple, 
direct prose. The days of my convent school-life, when 



JOURNALISM. 79 

small sins were punished by committing to memory pages 
of unabridged dictionary, bore unexpected fruit in fur- 
nishing me with an unusual vocabulary and a very clear 
idea of the shades of meaning in the words which I 
employed. 

"Finding my prose, despite all effort, likely to slip 
away in poetic phrase, I ceased for a long eighteen 
months or more to rhyme or poetize in any fashion, fight- 
ing against the unvirility of my prose. In harsh castiga- 
tion of its weakness I turned from the most inspiring 
thought to write of ' Dish- Washing,' 'Back-door ^Esthet- 
icism,' ' Electric Inventions ' ; which latter, after a solid 
week of study, I worked off in a column and a half 
article, for which I received three dollars and the highest 
encomiums thrown in. 

" With no especially lofty ambitions, but a sincere wish 
to do each task set me thoroughly, I felt as keen a delight 
in seeing my article on 'Back-door ^Estheticism ' copied 
as in the same honor paid to the first poem which was 
sent to the l Century ' and accepted. Let no young writer 
sit with folded hands awaiting the fate of his or her man- 
uscript. Having sent one grist to the great mill, set to 
work to prepare another. If you are wise you will rest 
your brain by employing it upon quite a different topic, 
and alternate treatise, story, verse, and science, — any 
thing, every thing which you dare attempt with any con- 



80 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

sciousness of knowing whereof you speak ; until, as the 
mill grinds, in some grist you find the key and be able to 
push the door open. Do not believe those who say it 
flies open. Nor to you nor to me ; but it is your own 
fault and mine if we cannot enter with an honest push ; 
and one door leads to another if we are not too head- 
strong or too proud to enter any but the one into which 
too many vainly dream of being whirled in the chariot of 
success. The chariot is luxurious, but it is drawn by 
sturdy steeds unionized, named Industry and Patience. 

"I shall horrify many by saying 'Do not try to model 
your writing on some great author.' It will be a poor 
imitation, and your charm is your individuality. Read 
widely, intelligently, that which interests you. Accept 
every accident or incident as an opportunity for becom- 
ing more intelligent. Absorb with grateful interest the 
knowledge which comes to you through the illustrious 
traveler or the humble artisan, since each can tell you 
of things to them familiar, to you unknown. Keep all 
your sympathies, your intelligences, your senses, alert and 
receptive. So surely will each year add to your store- 
house invaluable material to be drawn on unconsciously 
to meet some future demand of your profession. 

" Most important for your own sake, see to it that you 
receive some actual income from every thing published. 
The editor has no more claim upon your charity than 



JOURNALISM. 81 

you upon his. Let him set his own price, but distinctly 
state that you have a price. If he pays too little, you 
need not return to him. Yery few editors have been 
other than courteous to me even in my crudest days ; 
and to meet discourtesy with the same will not help you, 
and it is pleasant to remember that one has no ill-consid- 
ered tirade filed in some editorial sanctum. 

"It is so very easy to give advice. There is one con- 
solation for my regret that I have spoken, and that is 
that any one can give advice, but no one can make the 
young contributor take it. Frankly, I advise you to go 
your own way, since no two are likely to step with the 
same gait." 



82 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 



Y. 

HUMOEOUS WRITING. — TRANSLATIONS. 
Contributors. — Tom Masson, Marshall P. Wilder, Fred Lyster. 

Tom Masson, the popular New York humorist whose 
writings are the delight of all English-speaking people, 
contributes the following wholesome advice for those 
who are contemplating earning a livelihood by writing 
funnyisms : — 

" Can a young man who has a good common-school 
education, an ability to express himself fairly well on 
paper, and an average sense of humor, become a success- 
ful funny man ? Admitting that he has a desire strong 
enough and sufficient perseverance, can he, by training 
his sense of humor and by untiring effort, eventually 
earn his living by writing funny matter for the papers ? 

11 The question is not whether such a young man can 
make of himself a real humorist. He cannot. A real 
humorist is never made ; he is born, and he finds it out 
for himself. He need not be told to write. Like the 
poet, he cannot help it. Wit and humor are equal to 
poetry. Each of them, in its own way, is one of the 



HUMOROUS WRITING. 83 

highest expressions of thought. The real humorist, there- 
fore, is well able to take care of himself. His wares are 
too scarce to ever become a drug on the market. 

"But can a funny man be turned out by mundane 
machinery? Put the question in another way. Grant 
that the mass of funny matter published by the comic 
papers and journals that have their own original funny 
column, is poor; that, in reality, it is not funny; that, 
judged by the highest standard, it is not wit or humor. 
Say, that for every ten jokes published only three are 
really witty ; that the other seven are but clever imita- 
tions, puns, mere quibbles, half-way surprises, like the 
antics of the cheap clown as distinct from the genuine 
comedian : can the young man I have pictured acquire 
such facility in the production of these artificial sweet- 
meats, that, though promptly pronounced worthless by 
the reader, they will still be bought by the editor and 
placarded ' on sale ' in the market-place of the press ? 

•< Because an editor is not infallible lie allows a great 
deal of matter to be printed that is worthless. His paper 
is successful in spite of this. But can our young man 
reap the benefit of the editor's circumscription and make 
such clever imitations that the editor is willing to take 
them for genuine at regular rates because the genuine is 
scarce, or because he must fill up a certain space, or for 
other reasons ? 



84 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

"My answer is 'No.' Such a fellow cannot become 
a successful funny man. The experiment has often 
been tried, but I have never known it to be successful. 
I know of instances where young men have entered news- 
paper offices, and, after learning the trade, have turned 
their attention to writing jokes ; and, by the power of 
association or the influence exerted by their surroundings, 
have succeeded in producing such a fair imitation of the 
genuine article that it has been accepted. But such 
instances are rare and not worth considering. One must 
have the gift. 

"'Who, then,' I am asked, ' write these poor jokes, 
these imitations ? ' No one but the humorists themselves. 
These are but the offscourings. As a rule the legitimate 
offsprings of genius are too few to support their parent. 
Our humorist is known from the few good things he says ; 
he earns his living from the many poor ones. 

"This reasoning will make no difference to the young 
man who wants to write, but who hasn't the gift. He 
will continue to bob up serenely. He will keep on ask- 
ing all manner of questions. He must be taught by bitter 
experience. This will do him no harm. Editors may 
suffer, but the lesson will be a good one for him. And 
then, out of the hundred that try there may be one that 
can really make us laugh. Let us be charitable with the 
ninety and nine for the sake of this one. Maybe we can 



HUMOROUS WRITING. 85 

help him. He will learn it all himself sooner or later. 
But we need him now. His field is the newspapers. 
Perhaps he may unite with the gift of wit the fine frenzy 
of the poet or the genius of the story-teller. It makes no 
difference. His market-place should always be the press. 
It is the quickest, surest, safest way. It is practically 
the only way. 

"And then let him find the best medium for his wares. 
He must become familiar with every paper in his line of 
action. He must learn its aims, its policy, what it avoids. 
He must study it typographically. In a word, he must 
absorb it. This will take time. It is one of the impor- 
tant things to do. He will find it enough in itself. 

" He should always bear in mind that he has something 
to say to the people. Let him study the people. The 
way his landlady is affected by a witticism is an impor- 
tant thing to him. She represents a class. 

" Another thing he must constantly aim at is perfection 
of execution. He must hunt a superfluous word to the 
death, as a hound hunts a fox. His manuscript must be 
so plain that it is a pleasure to read it. He must write, 
write, write, and work, work, work. Because his matter 
is returned he should not be discouraged. He will 
be. But he can train himself to bear these disap- 
pointments philosophically. Later on he will thank 
the editor. Occasionally he will be able to prove 



86 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

to his own satisfaction that the editor is wrong. 
Not often. 

"He should never write any thing coarse. True wit 
is always refined. I have heard it said, ' Never write 
any thing that your mother objects to.' I go further. 
Never write any thing that anybody's mother objects to. 

"He will require to know the business methods of the 
papers — their rates, when they pay, etc. This he must 
learn for himself, either by personal inquiry or letter. 
No satisfactory guide book has ever been written on the 
subject. His letters should always be to the point, and 
enclosed with a stamped and an addressed envelope. 

" There are fashions in wit as in coats. He will learn 
that he must conform to the fashions and become expert 
in making ornaments most in vogue. He may also strive 
to originate new styles. If he succeed in the latter he 
will be surprised to find in the course of a week that 
many others can do the thing as well as he, if not better. 

"He must be prolific. There are three main divisions 
of humorous matter published — dialogue jokes, humorous 
sketches, and verses. If he write jokes, he should be able 
to turn out from twenty-five to fifty a day. They com- 
mand all the way from twenty-five cents to three dollars 
each. 

" One thing more. He must never doubt himself. He 
may doubt others, and wonder whether they will laugh at 



HUMOROUS WRITING. 87 

the thing he knows is funny. He may also have a per- 
fectly natural stage fright at the start. But if he doubt 
himself he had better do as a young man did that I read 
of recently. He had tried many things and failed. In 
despair he went to a friend for advice. 'Is there any 
thing you know you can do ? ' asked his friend. The 
young man thought a moment. 'Well,' said he, 'I am 
sure I can make good pickles.' " Then/ replied his friend, 
'you must go into the pickle business.' He did so, and 
made his fortune. So to the young fellow who wants to 
be a funny man, but who doubts himself, I have but one 
thing to say : Try pickles." 

Marshall P. Wilder, America's famous humorist, 
who has demonstrated that " wit makes its own welcome 
and levels all distinctions," says : — 

"I should advise all witty young folks to ventilate 
jollity in print, if a person is spontaneously funny and 
whose fun is of intrinsic value because it flows free and 
pure and is scintillating; but, if through research or 
study they manufacture funnyisms, their works are not as 
brilliant or as successful as natural wit. Wit is differ- 
ent from every other branch of literature. A bright or 
originally funny idea will sell even though it be crudely 
expressed. In other branches of literature much depends 
upon style ; it is quite the opposite in the world of fun. 



88 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

Write out your joke and don't change the pith or point 
of it to suit the whims or fads of any graceful or harmo- 
nious style. 

" One thing is, of course, almost necessary in humorous 
writing: Be brief; be epigrammatic. Condense to the 
utmost. Express whatever you say in the fewest words 
possible. 

"In the matter of humorous verse, it is advisable to 
cultivate a poetical and fluent style, also the mechanical 
art of versifying must be understood ; but in the getting 
up of the marketable jokes in circulation in newspaper- 
dom, the chief and all-powerful motive of the writer 
should be originality, individuality, and unique ideas." 

TRANSLATIONS. 

Fred Lyster, the renowned linguist and translator 
who has won such great success of late by his translation 
of Bernhardt's "Jeanne d'Arc," and also " Cavalleria Rus- 
ticana " by Haecklandes, gives some very lucid advice to 
young and ambitious translators who are determining 
to use their forces in that direction as a life work. 
He says : — 

" To translate from foreign languages, it is necessary to 
be native and to the manner born, because it is utterly 
impossible for any person, no matter how clever, to know 
the delicacies and conventional expressions of a language 



TRANSLATIONS. 89 

which he has been obliged to learn as well as he does 
those of his own tongue. 

" The idioms of a language grow up with one, and even 
the cleverest foreigners cannot prevent themselves from 
dropping into their own accustomed forms of speech 
when attempting to render the thoughts and expressions 
of an author in a strange phrase. 

" The ideal translator is one who knows his own lan- 
guage thoroughly and has a speaking acquaintance with 
the tongue he undertakes to make intelligible. A French- 
man cannot render a French book into English, nor can 
an Englishman satisfactorily put an English book into 
French ; and so it is with all languages. 

" One of the greatest causes of the degeneration of the 
English tongue in America is the constant translation of 
French and German books into English by French and 
German men. The public reads these books, in which 
the formation and color is inevitably that of the original, 
and by this means acquires a faulty idea of its own 
speech, the radical elements of which are totally differ- 
ent from those of the language in which the original 
was written. 

"I consider it rank impertinence for a foreigner, no 
matter how well educated, to attempt to translate into 
the English tongue, just as I should consider myself 
an impostor were I to undertake to put an English 



90 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

book into French, German, or Italian, although I am 
well acquainted with each of these languages. 

"I think it would be a blessing if there were more 
good American translators. In order to bring about 
a consummation devoutly to be wished, Americans must 
first study their own tongue, casting out the fads and 
foibles of half-educated philologists." 









WRITING FOR THE DOLLAR. 91 



VI. 

WRITING FOR THE DOLLAR. 

The great majority of writers for the press now meas- 
ure their glory by their gains, and the question with the 
beginner in literature to-day is oftener " What is my pro- 
duction worth to me?" than "What is it worth to the 
world ? " or, in plainer phrase, a Is there a livelihood in 
literature?" 

"Men and women have been known to starve with the 
pen in their hands, while others have grown rich and 
famous with its manipulation," says Edward W. Bok. 
"Between these two extremes really lies the truthful 
answer to the question. There is a livelihood to 
be made in literature ; but to the great majority it 
is only a modest one. What are called the 'plums 
of literature' fall into the hands of a few. The 
authors who are making good incomes with the pen 
as the only bread-winner are not numerous. Take 
a list of our successful authors, and, if you know any 
thing whatever about their personal lives, this truth at 
once becomes apparent. Thousands of the men and 
women whose names appear on the title-pages of our 



92 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

books, are not authors alone, — they have some adjunct 
to the pen. If they had not, the literary public might 
never have known them. Many a novel, l successful ' in 
the eyes of the public, does not bring fifty dollars to the 
pockets of the author, or the publisher either. 

"The best literary successes of to-day are made by 
those who make their writing a recreation rather than a 
vocation. The authors who are best known to-day 
started with an anchor to the windward. They had 
something else allied to the pen. With some other 
source of income to make your existence sure, you 
can write with an easier mind, and consequently bet- 
ter, than if the fear is constantly with you of 'What 
shall I do if this manuscript is declined ? ' Have some 
other resource than the pen ; then, if the latter proves 
your mascot, you can make it your bread-winner. That 
is the way scores of our modern successful authors did, 
and that is the way to make a livelihood out of lit- 
erature. Lead up to it; but don't make it your staff. 
Let the public first assure you that it wants your work ; 
then you can devote all your time and efforts towards 
supplying the want. 

"There never was a time in the literary history of 
America when so many chances offered themselves for 
remunerative authorship. At the same time, this state- 
ment must not be taken literally, and cannot be individu- 



WRITING FOR THE DOLLAR. 93 

ally applied. Literary competition has created a larger 
demand for pen-work, but it has raised as well the stand- 
ard of the work most desired and salable. Good liter- 
ary work is to-day at a premium. By l good literary work' 
I mean work that is well done and done with an eye to the 
public's needs and tastes. It is one thing to write well, 
but if the material produced is not in touch with the 
wants of the times, the work may go begging for a mar- 
ket. A good literary style harnessed to a price of 
popular work, something which the public will read, is 
the order of the day, and therein lies good remuneration 
for any pen which can supply it. 

"If you start out to make a livelihood by the pen with 
only the dollar-mark before you, you will fail unless you 
have a gigantic genius for blinding the editors and their 
public. The man or woman who writes only with the one 
overpowering idea in view of what the work will bring 
him or her makes a great mistake, and never will make 
any thing else. What are called ' literary grinders ' by 
editors and publishers are never popular or conspicuous 
for their success. They may seem to make a hit here or 
there, but not very often. The lane of the l literary hack' 
has a very short and sharp turn, and it is generally not 
far from the opening of the road. An editor is quick to 
single out the i grinder,' and the man or woman who is 
thus classified in the editorial mind is most unfortunate. 



94 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

" To write only for the dollar is folly. Let your work 
measure your income, not your income the work. The 
most irritating author is the one who, in her letter, 
obtrusively shows that all she wants is to 'get all she 
can.' In a certain sense this is right. What is worth 
printing is worth paying for. Get the best prices you 
can for your work. That is always legitimate. But 
don't make the price the whole object, the sum and sub- 
stance, of your letter to editor or publisher. Leave 
something to his judgment and sense of fairness. He 
knows you are not working for love or for the benefit of 
your health. Be paid for your work, and do such work 
that you will be paid well. Strive for a position where 
you can command good prices. But don't work, and 
show in your work, and in every line of your letter, first, 
last, and all the time, that you are only working for the 
dollar. Write what the public wants ; write in a plain, 
popular style ; take care with your work, and the dollars 
will take care of themselves." 

What an author writes is, after all, the sum total of 
his life, his knowledge, his experience, his temperament, 
his soul ; and style is the attire in which he clothes his 
thoughts. To be successful, then, "look in thine own 
heart and write." In other words, be true. Every real 
author's soul may be found in his works, — sometimes 



WRITING FOR THE DOLLAR. 95 

masked, it is true ; sometimes well concealed, but always 
there, and always most perceptible to the spirits akin to 
his own. What comes from the heart, and only that, 
touches the heart. There is room for many kinds of 
writers in this great world; there is room for the 
romancists and the realists, as there is room for the 
Sistine Madonna and a Meissonier battle-piece, for a 
Defregger peasant interior and a visionary, saintly, ten- 
der Fra Angelic o. 

Each artist, writer, or painter tells his own story. He 
cannot pass beyond his limitations ; he cannot write more 
than he is or knows; but his aspirations, his endless 
longing for something better than he is or knows, reveal 
themselves in his work; and therefore, while methods, 
fashions, and tastes change, truth is the note that lives 
and sounds on through the ages. 

We all preach better than we practice. Though we 
lay down the law before any writer, old or young, we 
cannot attempt to instruct any human soul. In every 
heart lie the possibilities of love and suffering and 
tragedy. 

After all, the main thing to be said to the young writer 
is, seek the truth that is near you ; do not imagine it in 
India or in the planet Neptune. Write the truth as you 
see it, without fear or petty prejudice. Picture the ugly, 
and the hospital atmosphere, and animal life, if you will, 



96 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 

but not always ; since, though these be true, faith and 
friendship and peace and loyalty and love are no less 
true in this changing world of ours. The brave, the 
wholesome, the human, with all its pain and passion, 
temptation and error, yet always with its hope and heart 
and loving-kindness, are around us, near us, on every side. 
Let the young writer paint this as he sees it. .Let him 
read in season and out of season ; let him observe, and 
feel, and live, and write. 

Success and failure are not dealt out, like prizes and 
blanks in a lottery, by chance and indiscriminately ; but 
there is a reason for every success and failure. Indo- 
lence, chicanery, waste, will cause the one ; while industry, 
honesty, and thrift will cause the other. 



INDEX TO COKTBIBUTOES. 



PAGE 

Herbert Milton Sylvester 3 

Edmond Picton 9 

George "William Curtis 10 

Maurice Francis Egan 11 

Hezekiah Butterworth 14 

Oscar Eay Adams 14 

Thomas Wentworth Higginson . 18 

James Jeffrey Roche 30 

Mrs. Frank Leslie 31 

Edward W. Bok 34 

Charles Warren Stoddard 38 

Brander Mathews 40 

William Dean Howells 40 

Baron Adrian Schade van Westrum .... 41 

Edward S. van Zile 42 

Harriet H. Robinson 44 

Julia A. Sabine 45 

Lucy Stone Blackwell 46 

Louise Imogen Guiney 47 

Margaret Deland 47 

EUa Wheeler Wilcox 48 

Abby Morton Diaz 49 

Edward Everett Hale 50 

Lida A. Churchill 51 

George Canning Hill 57 



98 INDEX TO CONTRIBUTORS. 

PAGE 

George Batholomew 66 

Francis M. Livingston 67 

A. Curtis Bond 68 

Madeline S. Bridges . 70 

Cora Stuart Wheeler .73 

TomMasson 82 

Marshall P. Wilder 87 

FredLyster 88 






INDEX TO SUBJECTS. 



PAGE 

To Write or not to Write 1 

Qualifications for authorship 1 

The forces that win . 2 

Tools for literary workers 3 

The art of authorship 4 

The literary critic 6 

The blue pencil 7 

The ' ' divine spark " 9 

Style in writing . . . . . . . . c 11 

Moral responsibility of authors 12 

The literary demands of the day 13 

Evolution in literature 14 

Points neglected by writers of fiction 15 

Women and adjectives 16 

Communications to editors 17 

The Literary Life 18 

The real interest of editor and writer 18 

The rejection of manuscripts 19 

The relation of the editor to the obscure contributor . . 19 

Editors not infallible 20 

The physical aspect of manuscripts 20 

Composition 21 

Eules for style . 22 



100 INDEX TO SUBJECTS. 

PAGE 

Haste in writing 23 

Material for work . . .24 

Public criticism 25 

The advantages of the newspaper office as a preparatory 

school 27 

Language 28 

Americanisms 29 

Quotation marks 30 

The fountain of good writing 31 

Guides to the cultivation of style 31 

The essential elements of the literary formula . . .32 

The study of models 32 

The editorial tribunal 32 

The literary standard 33 

General Suggestions 34 

What the public will read 34 

A receipt for a successful literary hit 35 

Fancy writing 35 

Originality 36 

Choice of titles 37 

Naturalness in writing 38 

A literary formula 40 

Influence with editors 41 

The power of technique 41 

The future of American literature 43 

Inspiration 44 

One advantage of a type-writer 46 

Difference in style 48 

Poetry from the financial standpoint 48 

Kevision 50 



INDEX TO SUBJECTS. 101 

PAGE 

Are authors born or made? 51 

Genius . 54 

Spasmodic writing 55 

The Modern Press 57 

The power of the press 57 

How the press differs from other social forces ... 58 

The editorial " we " 59 

Journalism 64 

Rules for writing for the press 64 

The acceptance of a manuscript 66 

An experience 67 

Cable-news writing 68 

The atmosphere of literature 71 

Results of the false kindness of friends 74 

The fitness of things 74 

Voluminous manuscript 75 

Descriptive writing 76 

Versification 78 

Imitation 80 

Remuneration 80 

Humorous Writing 82 

How a young man with a common-school education can 

become a successful funny man 82 

How a real humorist is known .84 

The best medium for his wares 85 

What to write 86 

Price paid for jokes 86 

Value of getting into print . . . . . . . .87 

Condensation 88 






102 INDEX TO SUBJECTS. 

PAGE 

Translations 88 

The ideal translator 89 

Mistakes made by translators . . . . . . .89 

Need of American translators 90 

Writing for the Dollar . . . . . . . .91 

Is there a livelihood in literature? 91 

Authors as bread-winners 92 

How the best-known authors began .92 

The literary market of to-day .92 

Literary competition . . . . . . . . .93 

Literary grinders 93 

Practical results 94 

The author and his work 95 

Preachment and practice 95 

Success and failure 96 






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